I'll Be Waiting
by elleisforlovee
Summary: After a fight scares Rose, Ron and Hermione make a rash decision. How far will they go for family and how far will they go to get it all back?
1. Chapter 1: Hurricane

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the lovely storyline created by these two. The characters, the world, and even the angst are all property of JKR.

A/N: This was originally written, as most of my stories are, after another fandom began blowing holes in my (our) otherwise perfect ship. I hate when people say that because they fight, they're not meant to be. So basically this story revolves around that idea. Keep in mind that this is a MATURE story and that this will deal with adult themes. Feel free to comment/critique/question what you read! I welcome the feedback!

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><p>Fondly, Ron remembered those days coming home to the Burrow after a year at Hogwarts. He remembered the smell of the fireplace burning, even in the heat of summer. Walking along the footpath leading to the front steps, he could smell his mother's cooking and sometimes, if he was lucky, he could hear his family's laughter filtering out of the small living quarters and into the garden, maybe even farther. He missed those days, but welcomed the new memories he made every night when approaching the home he shared with Hermione and their two children.<p>

Coming home from a mission was similar to coming home from Hogwarts. Now, at the age of thirty-four, he was more cynical of the world, more brooding, and perhaps a bit more serious. Ron saw the world differently, but knew his place in it. He loved Hermione, and their family, something he'd never deny. Being away for months at a time had his head spinning, and no matter what the house looked like upon his return home, he welcomed each and every moment as if it was his last, all the while keeping memories of firsts tucked away sloppily for later retrieval.

Their home was a bit of both of them, each room contrasting itself sharply. Hermione insisted on bookcases, while Ron insisted on walls cluttered with family photos. Where she wanted flowers, he wanted deep blues and bright oranges and a hope that nothing ever matched too much. He had seen the house Hermione grew up in and hated the way it looked as if nobody had ever lived there. After those visits to her parents he loved returning to the Burrow to see the cushions of the couch indented where his parents recently sat, as a tea kettle rang in the kitchen, matching the creaks of the steps leading upstairs. Now, their home in the center of London held pieces of both places. As Ron returned home, dropping his messenger bag by the front door as he kicked off his thick-soled leather boots, he was reminded of this.

Rose sat at the table coloring, doing her best to use all of her favorite colors on objects in which they'd never naturally appear. Hugo was standing on a stool next to his mother, putting little balls of raw cookie dough on a pre-greased sheet. As he turned to grab another ball from the large yellow bowl on the counter, Hermione motioned with her wand, pushing the wads of dough into more concentric circles. Upon seeing this, Ron smiled, unsure of whether to love or hate his wife for her desire for ideality. He settled on the former, silently walking into the kitchen only to receive loud screams from both of his children. They weren't the cries he was used to hearing, the ones that signaled pain and the aching of hearts. Instead, they were accompanied by laughter as both Rose and Hugo flailed their way into their father's arms. Hermione stood at the kitchen sink, knowing this was their time and that hers would come later. The laughter died down, Ron asking both Rose and Hugo how school was and what they had been up to since they had seen him last. Their blue eyes lit up, talking over each other as they discussed new spells they learned from their mother, the friends they had at school, and the time spent at their Uncle Harry's house.

"Can you guys go get ready for dinner while I talk to your mum?" Both nodded, looking like little fragments of himself and Hermione in their earlier years as they climbed the stairs leading up to their bedrooms. Cheekily, he stood up, staring at Hermione. She rested with her back against the island of the kitchen, her arms casually crossed over her chest as she smiled, only enough to signal that she was happy to see him, before tears slowly glided down her perfectly pink cheeks. She walked, then jumped, into Ron's arms, loving the feel of his body pressed up against hers. The tears continued to fall, but he was here now, safe and sound (and slightly dirty) in the middle of their kitchen. Not a thing could make her care about the state of her pencil skirt riding up as her bare feet dug into his backside bringing him closer into her. They both smiled through their kisses, Ron doing his best to rid her of the pain she was so clearly feeling. It was like this sometimes, and they both had accepted that. There were still wars to be fought, and after the war, their war, they had agreed that it wasn't always going to be possible to fight these battles together. They were needed in different parts of the world for different reasons. Both held successful jobs at the ministry, but on most days they couldn't help but feel as if their careers set them worlds apart. Ron traveled often, and Hermione did her job saving the world in a large corner office downtown. It worked though, and when they reunited they were brought closer, sometimes in the kitchen like this, other times in the bedroom, on the couch, or in the front foyer, depending on where little eyes and ears were stationed at the time.

Having a family made it more difficult, and yet more beautiful all the same. Words couldn't describe the sound of tiny feet running toward him as Ron walked in the door, only to be followed by the feeling of his children, the small miracles that made big impacts in his life every day, barreling toward him at full speed. They both had their mother's wit and their father's audacity. They were flawlessly theirs and void of any imperfection as far as their parents could tell.

Hearing her children stirring upstairs, Hermione pulled away from Ron, their lips separating in a slow rhythm. He tasted wonderful, and she craved more. He must have noticed, whispering a simple, "later" in her ear as Hugo came back into the kitchen showing his father his freshly washed hands. Ron smiled, picking up his son and setting him on the counter so he could blow raspberries on his tummy. The sight made Hermione giggle, all the worries of the day pushed into the recesses of her mind. Rose joined them shortly thereafter, her hands equally as clean, although that too was a competition with her brother. All of it was calmed, the house being brought down to a noisy murmur as Ron helped Hermione bring plates of food to the table. Rose and Hugo stared wide-eyed, causing both parents to chuckle.

They sat down, passing plates of home-cooked food back and forth, and with them they shared stories of their days and laughs Ron promised he'd never forget the timbre of. He knew that this was all a luxury. Hermione didn't lavish meals like this every night, nor were Rose and Hugo usually this agreeable. It made him wonder if the Burrow took on a similar tone when he and Ginny arrived home from school each summer. Did Ron only remember what he was shown through window and doors opened to him by his parents on breaks and extended stays?

"Rosie, baby, how was school?"

Rosie nodded, licking her fingers clean of the gravy that had somehow gotten there and down the front of her shirt. "Rosie, use your spoon please, darling." The child nodded again but continued to lick her fingers clean. She was her father's daughter, through and through. "Mama says I can go shopping for a wand soon…"

"Oh does she?" Ron inquired, unsure of why Hermione hadn't mentioned this to him in one of her many letters. Then he blushed, knowing that such talk would seem inappropriate amongst their usual racy exchanges. "Maybe for your birthday, love."

"And Uncle Harry said that he would teach Jamesie and me how to use them."

On the other side of the table, Hugo poked at his corn with his much too-large fork. Hermione stood up, leaving her daughter and husband to discuss wands, as she helped him use his spoon to shovel the small kernels into his mouth. She then smiled, kissing his forehead and ruffling his hair before sitting back down. No matter what Hermione made, dinner always followed a similar pattern. Rose and Ron would spend most of the meal talking, while Hugo looked on. Hermione ate quietly, enjoying the memories she and her family were making, but secretly hoping that it was her son's age and not his antisocial disposition that left him so silent.

When dinner wrapped up, they all thanked their mom for the meal, Ron placing a particularly chaste kiss on his wife's cheek before helping the children clear the table. The kids then went into den to watch the one hour of muggle television they were allotted for the day. This was Ron's favorite part of being home, and although Hermione hated to admit it, this part of the routine held a special place in her heart as well. In a similar situation, Hugo was conceived, after dinner when Ron's appetite was met but not in the way he wanted. As Ron attacked Hermione's neck from behind, she questioned if she had taken her contraceptive potion that morning, knowing that with the stress of her own job and what she considered to be a full family, she was not ready for another child. Not yet.

"What is this about a wand?" Ron asked, mumbling something else into Hermione's neck that she didn't quite catch.

She continued to wash the dishes, her mind wandering to hope that her husband would wrap the leftovers up and rid the table of the tablecloth and the candles that burned there. "Don't you think it's time?"

"I don't know. Do we?"

Ron searched her eyes for an answer, all the while hating himself for not having one. He hadn't been home in three weeks. Had something transpired while he was gone to convince Hermione that this was the right thing to do? "Well I didn't get my wand until I got my Hogwarts letter. I felt so behind everyone else…"

"Yeah, it really showed that day on the train." Ron deadpanned, his arms still lazily wrapped around his wife's midsection, caressing her flat stomach in want. He thought of Scabbers and how far they had come and he knew she was thinking it too. "I didn't get my wand until I was nine. They can still do magic without it. Hell, Rosie's been showing signs since she was four. And Hugo's almost there…"

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that." Hermione shut off the faucet. She then shook out her hands, rubbing them on the dish towel below the sink before turning around to look Ron in the eyes. "What if we go see some schools soon? I know Rose is only seven but sometimes they have long waiting lists. I don't want to put all of our eggs into one basket, you know? I don't want our children to think they don't have to prove themselves because of who we are...who we were," she added. "Or worse, I don't want them to hate following in a legacy they had no hand in creating." Silence settled into the kitchen, threatening Hermione's ears. "Say something, Ron."

"No, I just…" He breathed in. "You don't want them to go to Hogwarts?"

"No! No, I just thought. Well…" She struggled to get the words out. This rarely happened, but Ron knew better than to rush her. She'd get there eventually, maybe with a little push from him. "Hogwarts was great for us and who knows, maybe it'll be great for them, but-"

"It will be great for them. They're Weasley's. You can't be a Weasley and not attend Hogwart's, 'Mione…"

"I know, but-"

He cut her off again, causing her ears to redden and her breathing to pick up. "Where else would they go? And we're not separating them. Hogwarts is where they belong. I'm actually a little pissed you're thinking otherwise. You know what that place means to us."

"Ronald, please stop cutting me off."

"I'm sorry but do you hear yourself? You're disregarding the place we called home for six years. We saved that place and I'll be damned if my kids don't get to go back and learn the same shit I had to learn in the same classrooms with the same professors. Hogwarts made me who I am and it made you who you are too, Hermione."

"I know! I know that, I just don't want to single them out. Hogwarts is a great school but there's other fabulous schools too, Ron!"

"No! NO." He raised his voice, causing a silence they missed out in the den. "They're going to Hogwarts and that is final, 'Mione!"

"You're being bloody insensitive, Ronald!" She gritted her teeth, whispering to him as her face neared his.

"No, you're ruining a tradition that has been decades in the making!"

"I didn't say they weren't going! GOD!" Now it was she who was yelling. "I just said that it wouldn't hurt to look elsewhere either!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Then I'll go myself!"

Ron backed Hermione up against the sink. His groin, slightly enlarged, pushed into her tight skirt causing her to wince at the heat of contact. "You will do no such thing!"

"Ronald, get off of me, you selfish git!" She pushed at him, throwing her head back in a slide scoff.

"Hermione, you will not take our children to some unknown place while I'm away. Promise me…" This wasn't a row anymore. It was so much more than that. It was Hermione and Ron in close proximity as emotions were exchanged that only they could share under high stress. Their marriage worked this way and it was all the more coherent because of it. "Promise me!" He raised his voice again, shadowing the two children that appeared in the archway separating the kitchen from the rest of the house.

Hermione looked over her husband's shoulder, her face softening down at her children as Ron did the same. They had seen their parents argue only one other time. That ended just as quickly as it began, both with a smattering of kisses to the face. This was different, this was loud. "Mum?" Hugo spoke up, the light whimper of his voice enough to separate Ron and Hermione as the two walked toward their children with smiles on their faces. They weren't fake but they didn't tell the full truth either. In that moment, feeling fully ashamed and forgetting what it was they were arguing about anyway, they hoped their children would never see that side of them, still broken and fragile, never to be repaired.


	2. Chapter 2: Hold You In My Arms

A/N: Just a reminder that this story is Rated M, and this chapter is the perfect example of that. Please only read if you are comfortable with adult themes.

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><p>When Ron was home, he would playfully push past Hermione on his way into the children's adjacent rooms, hoping it was he who could read their favorite bedtime story and tuck them in. Patiently, and only after feigning hurt, Hermione stood by the door, fingers pressed to her lips while she watched her husband sooth her children, their children, into a soft slumber. Then, his face would light up as he walked toward his wife in the dark, grabbing her hand to take them both out of the room as he shut the deep mahogany doors behind them.<p>

Once in their bedroom, he'd shut that door too. Hermione usually sat on the bed, taking off her stockings in a rather domestic way that usually got her husband going. It wasn't just that he was away for prolonged periods of time, although that did help. Since their wedding, and probably for the years prior when they were still figuring themselves out, he had this habit of staring. He couldn't help it. His eyes raked over her perfect skin, completely untouched by sun or wind and still all the more beautiful. She was his, something he'd never get used to and yet something he'd never get enough of. He was protective, but only when necessary. Sure, he was older now, but the same jealousy he felt in school didn't waver just because papers and a ring told the world she was his. Naturally, their time alone was his favorite. Ron had spent years competing with others for her attention, most notably his best friend. In moments like this, Hermione beginning to unbutton her shirt, leaving her in just her tweed pencil skirt and white bra, he was speechless, and she was his.

Regardless of whether it was his first night back or his fourteenth, Ron would walk to Hermione slowly, her smile always widening as he did so. She'd rest back, maybe pull out the pins keeping her hair in place, practically begging for him to climb on top of her. If there were signs of children stirring, they would have shown themselves by now.

"'Mione, you know I'm sorry about before." Ron started, standing in the space between her legs, hovering tall above her. She looked up at him, her eyes tired and still so full of need. He didn't need to apologize. She knew exactly where he was coming from and she wanted the same things he did.

"I want them to go to Hogwarts too, Ron…" The weight of him straddling her sent her body back with him hovering over her in a different way. He rested each elbow on either side of her face, not wanting his own weight to be too much for her too-thin frame. Even after two kids, she still kept her figure. Perhaps her breasts had swelled, never returning to their original size, and her hips were wider, sure, but he loved these parts of her all the more. Seeing Hermione carry his children was a dream come true. He knew she didn't want more children, maybe not yet, but he hoped to convince her soon that it was what was for the best.

"Gods, I missed you." His kisses had left her neck, still lingering there as he made his way back up to her lips. Both breathed in deeply, trying hard to retain the sparks of electricity passing from skin to skin. Hermione was growing light-headed, he could tell by the inconsistent grip she had on the back of his already sore neck. "Scoot up," he ordered, causing her to smile and then happily oblige. He was no longer above her, but rather nestled into her side, one of his legs resting in between her own.

Hermione slid her hands under the tight black shirt her husband wore. "Too much black," she mumbled against his lips in between kisses. Ron smiled, sitting up. "No, wait, let me do it," her words were shy. Hermione got like this sometimes. She would always be that same insecure girl from before. With shaky hands, she pulled the black material up over Ron's head, separating them for far too long. Then she resumed, their bodies meeting once more as they lay back down.

Curious hands rubbed at Hermione's sides, resting on the bone that protruded there. Hermione allowed her own hands to rest on the side of Ron's face, keeping him close. It was a reflex, one she had had since the war. She loved her husband's job, and how happy it made him, but she lived days in fear, regretting ever allowing him to leave her side because he was wounded or somehow worse off than that. "Hey, 'Mione?" She looked to him, her eyes flickering open quickly. "Come back to me, love."

"Sorry…" she muttered, her voice trailing off as Ron smiled down at her, something she was sure she had returned. "I missed you...so much."

Ron nodded, kissing her once on the mouth before traveling down, further and further south until he stopped to pay special attention to her bellybutton poking out of the top of her skirt. Hermione's hand left the top of his head, pulling at the zipper located near her hip. She lifted up her hips, not needing much coaxing. He shimmied the tight fabric down her thighs, then off her legs. There she laid, almost all of her skin completely bare for him. "Stunning."

Hermione smiled, her skin pushing itself into his words. He was calm with her, like this. Privately he was hers, perfectly available for everything she wanted and needed. He paid special attention to the sensitive skin below her belly-button, above the cream lace knickers she wore. She practically purred under his touch, her hands still massaging the top of his head until the sensations against her lower tummy became too much, and her hands palmed the top of their scarlet comforter. They'd return shortly, begging his tongue to move further. He did, slowly, lapping at the skin the panties he was beginning to pull down had started to expose. "Ron…" Her breathing was ragged now.

"Tell me what you want, 'Mione."

"You, only you," she whispered quickly, suddenly missing his lips. He smiled, kissing down the apex of her right thigh, then back up, giving the same nod to her left leg. Slowly, he parted her folds, her body wet and waiting for him. He didn't have to touch her (although it was all he wanted to do) to know that she wanted him in the same way he had wanted her since he got off the train earlier that day. "Ronnn!" She hissed. "It's been three weeks, please!" Her voice whined, causing her husband to harden against the bed. He wanted to indulge her, but he also wanted her taste on his lips. So he lapped at her center, running his tongue from the bottom of her slit to where her little bundle of nerves laid. Ron took Hermione in his mouth, watching from heavy lidded eyes as his wife dropped her head back. After being married for eleven years and being with one another for many years prior, Ron knew exactly how to make his wife moan and forget that she had just previously asked him for more.

He crawled back up, placing an arm above his wife's head while the other remain fixed on her sensitive nub, fingers exploring as she cooed into his mouth. "Can we take this off?" His finger moved down to separate her bra strap from her skin. Hermione only nodded, reaching quickly around herself with a bended arm to pop the latches off their snaps. Ron then took the piece of clothing and tossed it to the ground. He guessed it had landed somewhere near their bathroom suite or possibly near the armoire near the closet. It didn't matter, it was gone, and once again his lips were enveloping Hermione, tasting every inch of her that she was offering up to him. "I need you, Ron...god, so much."

"I'm yours. I'm right here." Normally she'd start to cry, or at least, they had found themselves in this spot before and soon tears would fall down Hermione's cheeks. Her skin stayed dry, save of the kisses Ron was placing to her cheeks. Instead, Hermione reached down, undoing the hook on Ron's belt before quickly pulling it through the loops. The army green material of his khaki's tightened, and Ron watched all of this occur before him. She straddled one of his legs, both of them sometimes too broad for her tiny form to handle. Ron looked down, over his naked chest and to the place where her hands met the button and zipper of his trousers.

Hermione made quick work of undoing his trousers, then, without warning, she reached past his black briefs and touched him, placing his already hardened tip to her wet lips. She kissed up and down his shaft, watching as his member somehow grew in length, all for her. Her eyes widened as she suddenly became that girl back at the Burrow, curious and worried about getting caught. She knew they had all the time in the world but she wanted him now, as if waiting for her children to come scampering in, or the phone to ring signifying he had to leave on another mission.

"Wha-Hermi-" Ron blurted, his wife's lips no longer encircling him. She had moved down his body, doing her best to rid him of his socks. His trousers soon followed, those too hitting the double doors leading into the bathroom. Then, she grabbed for his briefs, ridding his body of all clothing. This was his favorite part, Hermione's fingernails running along the sides of his legs until the material landed on the edge of the bed and then flopped down onto the ground. "Don't tease, beautiful."

She growled, quickly climbing on top of him before he could protest. She grabbed his cock, teasing her own entrance with his rock hard member. "How much do you want me, Ron?"

"So much, baby...so mu-" Hermione cut him off, the weight of her body encasing him in the warmest of ways. "Hermione!" He blinked open, her naked form bouncing, up then down before him, before leaning down, running her flat hands up and down the planes of his chest. She kissed him, somehow stretching so that each time her lips met his sweat-slicked skin, his member jolted inside of her. "You're killing me, you know that?"

"Mhm," she nodded, then squealed, feeling her husband's strong hands flip her body over so that she was no underneath him. She felt small here, in the best way possible. It seemed as if Ron had grown and Hermione had stayed the same size. Here she was protected, and still completely vulnerable. "I love you."

He nipped at her ear, unsheathing himself from inside of her. "I love you too. Always." Then he was entering her again, causing Hermione to bite down on her lip. His thumb found her again, pressing light circles into her sensitive skin. "Feel good?"

"The best."

"Come for me, Hermione…" His voice trailed off. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer under these conditions, his wife's eyes burning into where they connected as she teased her own bare chest. Another word and he'd be gone, climbing a mountain he wanted the two of them to descend together.

"I'm close, Ron!" Her feet dug into his backside just as they had done back in the kitchen when they first reunited. Ron wondered how many times they'd be allowed to do this before he was called away again.

Ron brought his lips down to her ear, where his lips had once soothed bite marks and promised her the world. "Let go."

They did, together. Hermione cried out, the waves of her own orgasm surprising her as Ron dropped his head back, kissing Hermione's shoulder to ease the tension now apparent in his lower back. They did their best to keep quiet, Ron mustering up the energy he had left to pull Hermione into him and kiss her forehead. "You're amazing, you are." She didn't remember the words escaping her lips, but they had. She kissed his collarbone then settled back into him, not yet ready to let him pull out.

Minds changed, only after they heard a cry, high-pitched and pain-like coming from down the hall. They exchanged a brief glance before separating. Hermione pressed a hand to Ron's chest, signaling for him to stay. She slipped into her knickers and quickly grabbed Ron's black shirt from the ground. Without thinking she grabbed for the robe on the back of the armoire, wrapping the light pink material close to her body before exiting their bedroom, Ron watching her go.

"Hugo?" Hermione poked her head into her son's room, positive that the wailing belonged to him. The room was silent and dark, the light from the dark projecting light onto his sleeping face. She tiptoed out, making her way to Rose's room. She immediately flicked the bedside lamp on, illuminating her daughter's tear-streaked face. "Rosie, what's wrong, baby?" She pulled the child into her chest, thanking Merlin she remembered to throw on Ron's shirt.

"You and daddy…" The red-headed little girl sputtered from behind heavy sobs. Her face was completely red, more than usual. Her skin was pink, and wet, and Hermione was scared for the first time that night.

"What is it baby? Was it a nightmare?" Her little girl nodded. "It's okay. I'm right here and daddy's in the other room. Do you want to come sleep with us tonight?" She gave in, thinking about a previous argument her and Ron had had where she refused to coddle the children when it seemed that was all he wanted to do.

Rosie used her small hands to push Hermione away. Hermione was confused, looking into her daughter's eyes for an answer. "No!" Rosie demanded, crawling back under the covers.

"What's wrong Rosie? I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened."

"You and daddy hate each other!"

"Rose Weasley, why would you say something like that?"

She pressed a tiny fist into the lavender comforter she insisted her parents buy for her. "You and daddy were fighting and you two hurt each other!" She was sobbing again, curled into a ball on the corner of her bed. When Hermione reached out for her daughter, she only scooted away, further into her own head. She was just like her father. "Why do you hate him?"

"Rosie, I don't hate your father. I love him very, very much!" Hermione made the words out, positive her now warm cheeks were matched by a deep blushing color.

"I hate you both! You scared Hugo!"

"Rosie!"

"No! Get out!"

"Ro-"

"Go, mum! You and daddy hate each other." She was doing her best to catch her breath, the heaving of her chest causing Hermione to become teary eyed. She wanted to comfort her daughter but she also didn't want to startle her and exacerbate this already out of control situation. Finally, Rosie gave in, letting her mother envelop her small body into a hug. "You hate each other," was all she could say while her mother rocked her back to sleep.

~!~

"Ron…" Hermione spoke, finally entering their bedroom once more. Her bathrobe was open, showing her tanned gams wearing his shirt and those see-through knickers. Ron started, from her toes up, until his eyes focused on her eyes, red and puffy.

"Hermione?" He stood up now, throwing off the covers to reveal him in a new pair of briefs he must have retrieved while she was gone. "Hermione, what's wrong love?"

"I think we need to split up for awhile, Ron."

"Hermione, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost. You look…"

"Shut up, Ronald! Shut up! Our daughter thinks we hate each other!"

"Hermione? I don't understand…" Ron stepped into her, placing his hands on her hips.

Hermione stepped back, quickly, using the doorjamb as support. She was exhausted, tired of all of the fighting. Her body had felt more emotions in the past couple of hours than she thought she was ever capable of. Her head ached almost as much as her heart. She needed him, but she wanted her daughter to be okay. Hermione wanted everyone to be okay, she just didn't have the answers right now. "Don't touch me, please!"

"Hermione, love, you're scaring me."

"Rosie had a nightmare, Ronald. And she said that she thinks we hate each other because we fight and…" She was gone now, just like her daughter, the sincerest of sobs wracking her body. Ron picked up his wife who was practically collapsing on the floor in a devastated heap. He tried to soothe her, to bring her back to him, but she was somewhere he couldn't touch. On the bed, Hermione got under the covers, resisting resting her head on Ron's chest as she normally would when she needed opulence. Instead, she turned away from him, her body curling into itself so that her elbows and her knees touched. She could feel Ron sitting up against the headboard, just staring blankly ahead. "I don't want our children to look at us that way. I can't cause them pain like that. We can't do that to them but you saw them, they were terrified, Ron…" She breathed in, gathering courage from an unknown source. "I am too." She swallowed unsure of where her next bit of air would come from. "What happened to us?"


	3. Chapter 3: Think Of You

A/N: I see all of the views and yet nobody seems to want to comment? Even if it's a question or a criticism of some sort, let me know what you're thinking. It's cliche, but reviews really are the only form of payment us fanfiction writers get! Also, please don't forget that this is a MATURE story. Even if Ron and Hermione aren't shagging, the themes discussed are still ones that are meant for adult audiences.

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><p>"And if she doesn't mention me, then floo me, okay? Well, if she talks about me coming to pick up the kids, floo me then too, okay? And if she asks ho-"<p>

"Ron…"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"How about when I get home I just tell you what happened okay?"

"Right...sorted."

They were walking throughout the Ministry, both of them in their Auror garb. This wasn't a typical time and place for either of them. Sure, they worked for the Ministry, but they were rarely here. However, it was Wednesday, and like most Wednesdays when either weren't busy, Harry and Hermione got lunch. Usually, Ron would walk with Harry to meet Hermione and then while Harry changed out of his work clothes, Ron and Hermione locked her office door and quickly shagged on her desk. When Harry would return from the loo, he'd ignore their state, playing everything off with a smile. Sometimes Ron and Hermione wondered if he was truly that daft and ignorant to everything that had just happened.

Now, the two men trudging down the Ministry hall to glares and smirks, the atmosphere was different. It had been four weeks since Hermione and Ron last spoke. Not a word was said between them, and they hadn't even seen each other when the children were exchanged at the Burrow. Even if Harry was oblivious, he knew there would be no pleasantries in Hermione's office, much less Ron copping a feel while Hermione lapped at his neck, mollifying the skin she had previously tried to mark. This was the longest they had gone without contact since that day back in September when they first met. It was killing Ron, literally leaving him sleepless and high strung. He was a version of himself he hated. He spent his days wondering if she was the same way.

They turned into Hermione's department, causing Ron to tense. "You okay, mate?" Harry was practically jogging ahead, out of dislike for the intense stares he was receiving from the row of secretaries on the far wall. Harry knew they weren't staring at him. Or maybe they were. He had gained confidence since obtaining his job as an Auror, but he'd never get over the stares, mostly from women, as they made it seem as if everything he did was fascinating. "You look…"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Ron stood his ground. They turned the corner, bringing them to the hallway that led to Hermione's corner office. He remembered how hard she worked for this position, and how many times they celebrated because of it. He couldn't imagine it had been a month since he had last held her close while they slept, kissing her fluttering eyelashes to rid her eyes of a reoccurring nightmare.

At the end of the hallway, Hermione stood in her heels, and a pair of high waisted black pants. He hadn't seen her face but he knew it was her. She also wore his favorite yellow button-up, the one with the lazy fasten at the top that often came undone. She was locking her office using a Muggle key. Her secretary was watching with utter amusement, finally smiling at her as Hermione handed her a file and then walked off down the hall. She looked down, concentrating on how her black pumps hit the carpet below. Only when she fixed the strap to her purse did she look up, her tired eyes matching Ron's as he stood staring at the other end of the hallway. She stopped, if only for a moment, then resumed walking again.

Ron waved, causing Hermione to shake her head. It hurt, even from where he stood. She looked beautiful as ever, but in a more tragic way. Her eyes didn't light up the way they usually did and her lips formed a perfect pout, only coated with a thin layer of chapstick instead of her usual nude gloss. Exhaustion marked his eyes too, and a soft smile marked his lips. They had been here before. He remembered it all; the cold winter air hitting his cheeks as his very own rucksack came wailing into his side powered by her fury. He had deserved it then, but now he wasn't so sure. This was her decision, her choice, one he both questioned and then respected. He had to. Ron had no say in the matter. What do you say when your wife tells you she thinks you need to separate to make your children happy? There were no words on that cold day back in December and there were certainly no words now, not after years of marriage and children and love that too existed without description. Feeling defeated, Ron let his smile disappear before walking off.

Hermione continued to walk, a certain pain taking over her eyes. Harry saw it, but said nothing. He just fell in stride with her, walking her to the elevator and then downstairs. The stares continued, signaling that perhaps it was just him everyone was staring at.

"Ignore them," Hermione spoke up, poking at his side as the elevator opened up and he still had yet to move. "The men are staring at me as if I'm suddenly available and the women are...well they're staring at me too. They think I cheated on Ron with you and that's why we haven't been seen together."

They were outside now. The Ministry had really upgraded after the war, making it possible for its most important employees to simply apparate outside instead of using the typical means of entering and exiting the building. Even through a back door, reporters from the Prophet seemed to follow Harry and Hermione, as if they had been tipped off to there whereabouts.

"I can't do this, Harry," Hermione whispered leaning into her friend. He nodded, leading her into the nearest pub, away from the world's prying eyes. Once inside, they sat down. Hermione haphazardly threw her trench-coat and laptop bag into the booth they were about to occupy before noisily sitting down next to them. Harry raised an eyebrow, unaware of what had gotten into her. This was uncharacteristically Hermione, in the worst way.

"I don't blame them, I don't get it either."

"What? Hermione, talk to me." A waitress came over to take their drink orders, handing them two menus as well.

"They're bored. I don't even know how people know that we're separated they just do. I mean we are, but for all they know maybe we're just super busy and that's why we haven't seen each other in quite some time…"

"Hermione, let's just not talk about that, okay?" She nodded, sipping at the iced tea the waitress had placed in front of her. "How was your day?"

Hermione winced. "Can we not talk about that either? How are you?"

"Good. Life's been...interesting." Now it was Hermione's turn to arch an eyebrow.

"Nevermind."

"Harry, what is it?"

"It's just weird. This affects us too, you know?"

"Harry...I'm sorry. I'm being insensitive, aren't I?"

"No, Gin and I are just worried. Ron came to stay with us and-"

Hermione nearly spit out her drink. "You mean he's at Grimmauld Place? He didn't go to the Burrow? Harry, I just, I didn't know...I'm sorry," she rationalized.

Harry nodded. "It's fine, he'd do the same thing for me, you know? You both would. It's just him and Gin have been at each other's throats. We don't know what's going on, he hasn't told us what caused the fight or-"

"We didn't fight. Well, we did, but that's not why we're separated."

"Oh…" his voice trailed off, waiting for the silence to be overtaken with the sound of Hermione's explanation. It never came. Instead she went on about something on the menu before ordering and handing the pamphlet back to the waitress. Harry followed suit, suddenly realizing how seedy this pub truly was.

"I'm sorry about him and Ginny. You know how they are."

"And it was our anniversary yesterday, Hermione."

The tone at the table suddenly got serious. "Harry, I am SO sorry."

"We were going to ask you to take the kids, but that wouldn't have worked."

"Harry!" Hermione's voice made it seem as if she was the one reprimanding him.

"You could have called me! I would have gladly taken the kids, you know that!"

"I did call." Harry spoke softly. He avoided her gaze, instead cutting into his sandwich, before bringing a french fry to his mouth. He didn't need to look at Hermione to see her across the table, her jaw propped open staring at the chipped wood of the bar table. Several times her mouth must have shaped itself to form words, but nothing came out. Her silence said enough for the both of them.

"I talked to Hugo. Well, first I talked to Rosie who then insisted that I talk to Hugo because she didn't know anyone in the house named 'mom'...He said his mom was crying in the bathroom and couldn't respond to the floo. Then he asked to talk to his dad because he hadn't done that in a week..."

Harry looked up now, seeing the tears streaming down Hermione's face.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Hermione wiped her tears away.

She was in the bathroom last night but she hadn't been crying. She just couldn't let her children see her like this, so weak and broken. That was the point of Ron moving out for awhile, for them to be apart and work on being better individuals so they could become a better version of themselves when they were together. She hadn't felt more unlike herself since the split and the one person that normally made everything better was the same person she was pushing away.

Harry spoke up, almost startling Hermione who was beginning to think she was as alone as she currently felt.

"What are you guys getting at, Hermione? I mean, I know you're not conventional. You and Ron have never really done anything the way the rest of us do, but we thought you were happy. I mean, that day on the train all he could do was talk about how excited he was to see you...and the kids, of course. And now that you're gone and you need this time, he does the same thing. Only it's worse now because the poor bloke doesn't sleep and he can't help himself from filling the silence during missions with thoughts about you. It's like he can't even stand to be alone with what he's thinking. Like he's not brave enough now that you're gone. I've never seen him like this."

"Why didn't he fight me on it? You know, the minute it happened I wanted to take it back. Just like when he apparated back when we were on the run. He kept telling me when he got back how he just wanted to take it back and for the first time that night I knew what he meant, you know? I don't know why I said it, I was just so hurt and confused and worried for Rosie, and Hugo too. And he just sat there and took it. That's not Ron, Harry and you know it!" Her voice was accusatory now, searching to blame anyone but herself.

"And then I started to think that maybe this was a good decision. Who have we become if my daughter having a nightmare makes me want to split from the man I love? Especially when that same man is her father." Now she was whispering, for a reason Harry had not yet caught onto. Maybe she hadn't noticed it either, like she was afraid of hearing the truth at full volume.

"And who is he if he's not the man that fights for me?"

"Well then he's Fourth Year Ron."

The joke, no matter how cheap caused Hermione to laugh, wiping away her already fading tears. "You're an arse, Harry Potter."

"It's been known to happen."

Both Harry and Hermione continued to eat, Hermione mentioning several times that she'd take the kids soon so that Harry and Ginny could properly celebrate their anniversary. As their plates cleared, Hermione just stared at Harry, waiting for him to suddenly have all the answers. When he said nothing, she asked a question. It was simple, but she wasn't sure anymore if she had a response for she wasn't even sure if one existed.

"We'll be alright, right?" It wasn't the response that was the issue, but rather the question itself.

"You know, Hermione, for the brightest witch I know, you sure ask stupid questions."

After an intense quarrel, they split the bill. Hermione hadn't let Harry pay for a thing for her ever and she wasn't going to start now that Ron was out of the house. She loathed that this entire thing had to be a secret. It was nobody else's business what her and her husband did. He was still her husband and he always would be, they just needed some time to themselves for a little while. Hermione wondered why people couldn't see after all these years that she loved Ron and not Harry. The people that knew her best understood, but they didn't seem to be the ones that mattered.

Leaving the pub, Hermione wrapped her body into her trench-coat, still feeling as if the world was judging her and she had things to cover up. Harry noticed too, placing his palm to the small of her back as they walked down the street. It was nice, and friendly, the way everything Harry did always was. Still, Hermione pleaded with herself to stop wishing that his hand could somehow be replaced by Ron's. That is what she needed, and perhaps what she wanted as well.

"Harry!"

Both Hermione and Harry lifted their heads, ending the silent conversation they were having as they walked the streets of London. Up ahead, Ginny walked toward them with James, Albus, and Lily, who all ran toward Hermione wanting hugs. Unfortunately, her own children stayed back with Ginny, hugging the hem of her dress tightly.

"Auntie 'Mione!" Lily blurted out, causing her aunt to immediately think of Ron, wherever he was. She talked with James about starting school, his new wand, and his placement exams. Lily did her best to talk over the two, instead pointing to the flowers on her dress and the mismatching blue cardigan she wore.

"Very pretty, Lily!"

Rose was never that interested in what she wore, so Hermione humored the toddler and in the process humored herself.

"Is that the dress we got you for your birthday?" Lily nodded.

"So pretty, my little flower!"

"Albus, what about you bud?"

Hermione looked up at her nephew, still in a crouched position on the corner of a busy city street downtown. Undoubtedly people were staring and probably wondering what was going on, but Hermione didn't care. Growing up as an only-child, she wished and dreamed of what it would be like to have a big family and to be apart of something bigger than just her parents and herself. Now she had that, or at least she used to. Hermione bit back a tear, one that begged that she question if she was throwing it all away.

"How's school?" Albus said nothing. He then looked back to Rose, his green eyes quickly bouncing between Rose and her mother. Albus stepped forward, whispering something into his aunt's ear. Hermione's eyes grew wide, creating plenty of room for the tears that were about to fall. In her sternest voice, she spoke, the words bringing her to her feet.

"Rose Weasley, you come here right now!"

Rose looked at her mother defiantly, not moving.

"Rosie, I'm serious!" She gently grabbed her daughter's hand, bringing her closer to her body. Then she picked her up, throwing the young child onto her hip. Harry and Ginny watched this all unfold, feeling embarrassed for Hermione who could not bear to feel anything else at the moment.

"Rose Weasley, we're going to talk to your father about this, do you hear me?" Rose's eyes were beginning to water now as she pushed and kicked for her mother to let her down. Hermione leaned into Ginny to whisper in her ear, "We'll meet you at the Burrow." She was gone with a pop, apparating out of London in broad daylight.

The Potter children high-fived, thinking how savvy their aunt was, the family drama becoming a game for young minds that could not yet contain the weight of what was occurring. Ginny walked to Harry, who immediately took Hugo in his arms, comforting the small child.

"Hi, bud." The red-headed child smiled at his uncle, before hiding his head once more.

While his wife smiled awkwardly, unable to handle unstable family situations, Harry rubbed the small child's back, feeling as Hugo settled into his shoulder.

"Okay, c'mon guys!" Harry said, walking ahead of the brood, to a back alley where they all could apparate home. Truth be told, they were supposed to be heading to the Burrow as well, but after Rose's outburst, both Ginny and Harry knew that Ron and Hermione needed time, they way they often did and perhaps it was best if Hugo wasn't there to experience it all.


	4. Chapter 4: I'll Be Waiting

A/N: So I've gotten the term "confused" a couple of times in my reviews and to be honest, my beta and I are just as confused by everyone saying they're confused as you all seem to be confused. Confusing, isn't it? I normally don't write Author's Notes like this but I figure for this story it is apparently necessary . My intent when writing this story, as mentioned in the first chapter, was to capture the essence that Harmony/Dramione (ew) fans use to say that Ron/Hermione don't work, their fighting, and use it to prove the exact opposite, that this is why they *do* work. It may seem rash to some people that they have split, but I beg to differ. When you have a child like Rosie (who I believe to be headstrong and selfish, as the story will pan out for you) if she is scared by something her parents have done to the point where she pushes her mother away after a nightmare, them being together is not going to help. It's clear she's upset with her parents, even going as far to convince Albus that they're bad people. I've worked with kids my entire life and this reaction (Rosie's reaction) seems much more plausible to me. Ron and Hermione don't doubt they love each other. They didn't break up to belittle their love, they broke up because Hermione was acting irrationally and Ron didn't fight her on it. Then it became about who they were if they weren't going to fight to stay together. If Ron had just said, "no, you're being silly" then maybe him and Hermione would have talked it over. But he didn't and here we are. Again, as I keep mentioning this is a story that deals with adult themes. They're not children anymore and the things they feel echo that of someone with years and maturity. This story is completely finished and has a total of 17 chapters, within those all will be explained and worked through, you're just going to have to trust me.

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><p>Something about the Burrow was different, though Ron had a tough time trying to place his finger on what that was exactly. The kitchen smelled the way it always did, of tea and shepherd's pie. He looked around, noticing that the fireplace was off, a kettle was on the unlit stove, and the only light in the entire first floor came from the sunbeams outside.<p>

He walked upstairs, laughing to himself at how much bigger he felt in this house than he used to. As he aged, he had become broad, but now, after years as an Auror, it was more than that. His shoulders were pure muscle, and his waist had thinned to emphasize the strength in his legs and arms.

The last time he had walked upstairs he was bringing Hugo to nap after a typical Sunday dinner. Then it hit him, he hadn't been here alone since before the Horcrux hunt. Ron had a particularly hard time letting Hermione out of his sight after the war, something that often got them in trouble at night when neither of them could sleep. Then it got better, or so he thought, he stopped on the landing to think of just how shattered they'd become since. He didn't feel the pieces washing away, and for a minute he wondered if they really had been lost or if it was just something he said just to agree with Hermione.

The past month was difficult, but not in the way he had expected. He was gone anyway, back on a mission, traveling to parts of Europe he wasn't even aware existed. Still, he missed Hermione the way he never had before. It was the combination of being away from her, coupled with the idea that when he did return home, he wouldn't be able to hold her the way he wanted.

At the top of the steps, Ron poked his head into Ginny's room, which had since then turned into a nursery for all of the grandchildren. He then went up another flight, stopping at his room, which was untouched for James and Victoire to have a place to stay when they came over. Ron blushed, thinking of the many times Hermione and him returned that room to its previous use. "Oh, Ronald, good, go get the laundry basket from my room, will you dear?" Ron stepped back, almost as if his mother had heard his extremely adult thought. He smiled up at her as she descended the stairs carrying a large laundry basket of freshly cleaned clothes. After all these years, the Burrow was dwindling down to just him mum and dad, and yet the size of the laundry pile had yet to decrease.

"Sure mum." Ron pushed past his mother, quickly grabbing the basket from his parent's room before following his mother down the stairs. Mrs. Weasley was aging, but she was still agile, and quick. At the bottom of the steps her presence in the room immediately set the fireplace ablaze, while the tea kettle began to hum as it too was heated.

Ron set down the basket on the kitchen table, watching as his mother made quick work of pulling ingredients from the pantry to cook one of his favorite meals. "Oh look at you. Your shirt is wrinkled and you look thin. Have you been eating?"

"Of course, Ma."

"Your sisters cooking or Harry's? I love that boy but he can't make that muggle cereal, if you know what I mean…"

"I can cook for myself, Mum...what do you think I did before Hermione came along?" He sipped at the tea she set down in front of him.

"Well you had me, dearie. But to be frank, I don't really remember a time when Hermione wasn't around..."

His mother's words stung, more than he ever thought was possible. As usual, she spoke the truth, but in a way that made it seem so much more than that. When Ron grew up and had his own family of his own children, he saw how maybe he wasn't as undermined as he always felt. His mother didn't play favorites, nor did she treat anyone differently.

"Can we just not talk about this please? It's hard enough as it is. I saw her today."

That last bit crept out. Ron wanted nothing more than to talk about Hermione, just to hear her name fall off his lips as if that would somehow bring her here, back to this place of wanting and needing him.

Mrs. Weasley didn't look over. "Oh did you?"

Ron could practically hear the smile playing its way across her face.

"Yeah. She looked...beautiful. Okay, even."

Her smile widened. "Ronald you and I both know she's not okay. When she flooed me the day after it happened I-"

"She flooed you?"

Mrs. Weasley placed a plate of Ron's favorite foods down on the table before him. He wondered when in their conversation she had made all of this.

"Well, of course dearie. She told me not to worry and that she'd still be around for Sunday dinner, bless her."

"She'll be here for Sunday dinner?"

Sometimes Ron felt disconnected. He married Hermione because he loved her. When he was able to look past all of that, he knew deep down that he married her because of the person she was and the person she allowed him to be. She was beautiful, and kind and strong-headed but for all the right reasons. She fought for what she believed in, so why was she suddenly giving into everything instead of fighting for them?

"Of course, dear. She was here the past three weekends but you were gone for work. She acted as if nothing was wrong. I know that's not the truth and so I worry about her. She's a strong girl though. You on the other hand..."

"Mum!" Ron wiped at his mouth with the napkin that rested on his knee. Before Hermione he couldn't have cared less. Now, even with her gone, his mind found ways to care more. He cared if his shirt was tucked in or if his hair was quaffed. He wanted to smell good and say the right things, even after all these years of doing the exact opposite. Ron felt like they were dating again, in those early stages where Hermione explored him like one of her favorite books. They weren't dating, and the stages of exploring were complete. He loved Hermione and he was positive she loved him, he just wasn't sure if he liked her the way he always had. Actually, he was beginning to hate her, just as Rosie had surmised. It wasn't the same though and it never would be. Even hating Hermione made his heart swell.

"I'm just saying Ronald that you two are good together. I don't know what you two are doing really. So Rosie had a nightmare. She's a child. It happens. And yes it's unfortunate that she is choosing not to talk to the lot of you but what about Hugo? Rose has always demanded your attention and he shouldn't be cheated again because of this."

"He said he was scared. I scared my son, mum. And now my daughter hates me and my wife won't speak to me..."

"It's marriage Ronald. This isn't you two dating anymore. But I'm going to give you the advice I wish someone had told me years ago. Treat it as if nothing has changed. You've made it eleven years and now for the past seven you've done it with children in the picture. But it only has to be different if you want it to be. Do you remember how hard you two fought to be together? And then you were together and the fights were nasty. And then it got better and sometimes worse but you made it work. That's you and Hermione. You know, you two are unlike any couple I've ever seen. I want all of my children to be happy and in love, but I remember watching you two just knowing it would be different. And that's okay. You need to figure this out though. For yourselves and for those babies. I will not have my grandchildren suffering because their parents are selfish, you hear?"

"We're doing this for them." Ron's plate was almost clear now.

"Are you? Or are you both scared at how complacent you've grown with everything?"

Ron threw his napkin down on the table after giving one last swipe to his gravy-soaked lips.

"I'm done talking about this!" He picked up his plate and silverware, bringing both to the sink.

With her son's back to her, Molly spoke. "All I'm saying is that I think that by protecting the children you're actually making it worse. Don't worry about them. They'll be fine. You turned out okay, didn't you?"

"Whatever mum, you and dad never fought around us." He walked away from the sink, wiping his now wet hands on his jeans.

"When are they supposed to be here anyway?"

"In a few hours I believe...and you are not supposed to be here." Molly was folding clothing now, sitting at the kitchen table with the chair pulled away. She hunched over the laundry basket, using her wand to match socks and fold trousers and shirts.

"Why not?" Ron touched his back pocket, like he had seen Hermione do many times before when her cellphone rang. He grabbed his deluminator feeling it shake from within. It sounded similar to when Harry would listen to his CD player during the summer and all he could hear was the soft murmur of music pouring from those things he called headphones.

"Do you hear that?" Molly looked over her shoulder at her son. He had the most curious look on his face as if he had seen a dementor, or had someone tell him his job was suddenly going to be taken away from him. He was slightly pained, but only because he was confused.

"You don't hear that?"

"No, dear!" The lights in the room went out.

"Ronald!" Then on again.

Ron brought the silver object to his ear, hearing her voice from within. He looked to the clock above the fireplace, seeing her face and Rose's traveling closer and closer to the midnight strike, signaling they were almost to the Burrow. As the light settled back into the room, Ron placed his deluminator back in his pocket and walked quickly to the door, making it to the threshold in one fluid step. He grabbed the door handle, swinging it open.

"Ron…" Hermione croaked out, her voice shaky and worn out. In her arms, Rose stopped fighting her mother and instead looked up at her father, her eyes distended and pink. He didn't know what was going on, but he saw it, the look of hurt and emptiness written across his wife's face.


	5. Chapter 5: Fall To Pieces

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update this! Today is currently my Study Day and then I start final exams before the summer. Also, my lovely beta was dealing with some things and was unable to edit this for me. But here it is. In my absence I posted a two-shot I wrote awhile ago: "We're Okay". Check that out if you're feeling generous! Oh and sorry this is so short. The length of each chapter just depends on where it feels I can create a break in the action.

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><p>"ROSIE, SIT DOWN!" Ron yelled. He was exhausted at this point too and they had only been talking for five minutes. Rosie sat quaintly on the edge of the coffee table while her parents sat on the couch across from her. She didn't look at them, or say a word. She wasn't crying anymore, but her mother was, and she watched as her father's hands itched to bring his wife in close.<p>

"I hate you both!" There it was, loud and poignant.

"Rosie, why do you keep saying that?" Hermione's chest wasn't heaving nearly as much as when she first arrived. The closeness of Ron, his gentle hand on her knee, calmed her if only for a few more minutes.

"Because it's true!" Hermione swore that Rose's red hair was getting brighter the more she resisted this conversation. Ron noticed, fighting the urge to pick up his daughter and place her in time out. Normally it was he who was against that form of punishment, but for Hermione's sake, he knew it was necessary.

"Hugo and I are going to run away! We already talked about it!"

With her head propped up by her elbows, Hermione dropped her head down toward her knees to hide behind her hands. She heard Ron laugh, instantly causing her to elbow him in the side. This wasn't helping Rose who only grew more agitated with her parents as they ignored her threat.

"What? I am! We already talked about it! We can do it, too! Uncle Harry said you ran away!"

"Rosie," Hermione grabbed her daughter's hand, her advance instantly shook away as Rosie stood up and began pacing around the living room of the Burrow.

"We didn't run away. And we were seventeen! You're seven!"

"So you two liked each other enough then but don't like each other now?" Rose huffed, throwing her stiff arms down to her sides as she kicked at the floor. "I HATE YOU!"

"Rosie, we don't hate each other! I already told you that I love your father very much…"

"Shut up!"

"ROSE WEASLEY!" Hermione turned around, staring at Ron now, his body already moving past her to pick up their daughter. She was kicking now, the soles of her shoes almost flat against her father's chest as her tiny fists pumped into the skin of his back. At work, he had taken much worse, but somehow knowing your daughter is angry with you stings more.

He brought her upstairs, there was yelling, and then there wasn't. He descended the stairs, staring at Hermione who had a blank expression on her face. His mother sat at the table still, her laundry basket nearly empty. All the folded clothing from the past week sat in neat piles on the table, threatening to topple over.

Ron stared at Hermione, her expression changing, but only slightly. They said nothing, their eyes filling up the space between them with short bursts of electricity. The air sparked and sparkled, and then fizzled out into a short spurt of smoke, only to be seen by the couple.

"Mum, will you watch Rose?"

Molly looked over. She was standing now, the basket on her hip, now full of all the clean, folded laundry. "Where are you two off to?" She began to ascend the stairs, no doubt to unlock the sticking charm Ron had put on the door of the bedroom he had silenced Rose behind.

"A walk." Both Hermione and Ron spoke at the same time, giving Molly a glimpse at what their silent conversation was about.

"You know, Ronald. I know I told you to treat each other as if nothing changed but I didn't literally mean to solve things the way you two used to. I know what a walk means. "

"Molly, we're just..." Hermione tried, only to be pushed back by Ron.

"Hermione, dear, I love you but please don't ever think I'm as dumb as my son here."

"Oh my god," Hermione spoke, pressing a stressed hand to her forehead.

"Off with you now! I'll watch my grandbaby!" She shooed the couple out the door and into the cool spring afternoon. It was nearing nighttime, but only barely.

Once outside, Ron and Hermione fell in stride with one another.

"Is she serious?"

"Are you kidding? Everyone used to know we shagged in the broom shed."

"Who said we were going to the broom shed?" Hermione asked, her lips forming the sexiest of smiles. Suddenly, she was serious, getting right back into it all with her husband.

"And the woods," she added pointedly.

Ron opened the door to the shed, ushering Hermione inside before closing and locking the door behind him. She heard him mutter something else before walking to where she sat on Arthur's worktable. Her eyes were perfectly lined up with his, giving him the best view of her heart.

"We conceived Rosie here."

"Yeah..."

"What happened with her?"

Hermione looked away, avoiding Ron's glance now.

"She told Albus not to talk to us because we're not good people. She told him we were mean and angry all the time...are we angry all the time?" Her voice was shaky now. Ron could tell it took a lot for her to get that last bit of information out. "And she said it all in front of Harry and Ginny! I was mortified, Ron! You know how they are, all perfect and together."

"Yeah, well that's not us. That's never been us, 'Mione."

"Please don't call me that!" she spat.

Ron furrowed his brows. "Are you serious?"

"I don't know! Just stop talking! I need to think!"

Moments passed on bated breath. He didn't speak, but she didn't really think either. Her mind was too focused on the sawdust in the corner of the room, and if she was being honest with herself, the way Ron's skin looked delicious in the shirt he was wearing.

"Hermione talk to me please. If you don't talk to me I'm going to-"

"Shut up, Ronald." She breathed in, before attacking his neck, pulling his face close so that he was hers, quickly.

"I hate you, you know that?"

"Fuck you. I hate myself for ever falling in love with you." He was pressed up against her now, fitting in between her legs, just enough so that his rock-hard member could tickle at her center. She felt it, her head suddenly becoming dizzy. She wanted to take it back, just as she assumed he had, but the passion their words stirred up had their lips and their hearts somewhere else entirely. As her hand snaked up the front of his shirt, running her fingernails across his abdomen, he was making quick work of marking the skin of her neck right between her collarbone and ear.

The sensation tickled, causing Hermione to squirm further into him, somehow urging him on. "Ron…" She moaned, his hand pinching at her nipples through her work-shirt. She looked even better here, in the half-lit broom shed than she did today when he saw her at the Ministry. She was his like this. That girl back at the office was independent and beautiful, all of which scared Ron, causing him to abruptly walk away and leave her behind.

"Shut up. Stop talking, pleaseeeee…" After eleven years of marriage, he knew what she was going to say. Instead of letting her speak, he continued kissing her, violently forcing his tongue past her lips to tangle with her own. She tasted spiteful and rather warm. Her apology had already been accepted.

Like a circuit going off, Hermione removed her hands from Ron's shirt, while he did the same thing, allowing their lips to disconnect in a slow, but mandatory breath. "We're better than this," Ron spoke. Hermione's hands were still on him, only over his shirt, placed right above his heart where the planes of his chest had hardened under her intense care.

Hermione hopped down from the bench, suddenly feeling like the same seventeen year old that used to skip out on meals and neglect her friends to shag her boyfriend in private. Her heart raced the way it did back then, wanting nothing more than the man standing before her. He was here, but he wasn't hers.

"Are we? Is this version of us really better than this?" Her fingers were making quick work of buttoning her blouse back up, before poking the material back into the top of her trousers.

"Version? What are you getting at?" He furrowed a brow, staring at his reflection in a watering can his father had on one of the many shelves in the shed. His cheeks were flushed and his lips puffy and red. Hermione and him could only remember times like those, the shags in the shed and every other private place on this property when they were both willing to go back. Lately, it was all they wanted to do. They were better then, weren't they?

"I don't know who I am anymore, Ron. I've always been Harry's best friend or your girlfriend and now I'm so far gone…" She hiccuped, stifling a sob in her chest. "I'm lost and it hurts."

"I can help you, Mione. Just not like this."

"I know. I just miss being wanted. But I know this is for the better. I need to figure out my decisions for a while. I think you do too." Hermione opened the door to the broom shed, letting light in to wash over the memories they were just about to reincarnate.

"Yeah...but Mione?" Carefully, he watched her, hoping she had settled into letting him call her what she had once loved to hear.

"Yeah?"

Ron sighed, the pressure building up in his shoulders subsiding, causing a dull pounding along his brow line. "You know I always want you right? I always have..."

"Ron?" A shaky hand was still on the edge of the broken wooden door leading outside. She looked like she was ready to take off in a dead sprint, or better yet, sit down and cry.

"Yeah?"

"Please don't say those things right now. We need to do this. I really feel like we'll be better because of it. I truly believe that, okay?" Ron nodded, stepping into her to kiss her cheek as he replaced her hand with his own on the door. He shut it, hearing that familiar smack of wood and metal as the door met the jamb. It reminded him of summer nights spent sneaking around even when everyone in the house knew what you were up to. It sounded like his stomach doing somersaults at the first sight of Hermione, her skin sun-kissed and her lips swollen because of him. He itched to go back, to feel her, and tell her how much he loved her and how he'd never let her go. Maybe if she heard it more then, she'd be more apt to believe it now.

"I want you so badly, 'Mione. But you're right. We're not us right now. We need this. Maybe it'll be good...even though right now it's tough. Can we...can we at least talk?" They were almost as the house now. Ron brushed at Hermione's shoulder, sending shivers down her spine as he wiped away sawdust and dirt from her lapel.

Her eyes lit up, ignoring his movements as her mind focused instead on his words.

"You'll use your mobile? I'll call you as soon as I'm home!" She may not be that girl from the broom shed and he wasn't sure when he'd see her again, but Hermione had her voice and echoed the way she flipped her hair off of her shoulder.

Ron wanted to argue and remind her that all of this was her choice but instead he spoke softly, telling himself that this Hermione didn't know any better.

"Of course. Can't wait."


	6. Chapter 6: Still As Beautiful

A/N: No Author's Note...enjoy?

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><p>Apparating home with two children was virtually impossible. Hermione nearly splinched herself, her skin instead being etched with a small slice on her finger, like that of a papercut. As she set the children down, both of them running upstairs to get ready for bed, she sucked on the cut, drawing blood into her mouth. As she pulled her finger from her lips, she noticed how sweet her mouth tasted, and how blood continued to trickle down her hand toward the indent of her nails. It pooled there a bit, and Hermione just watched it, still recovering from the events at the Burrow.<p>

After Harry and Ginny arrived with all of the children, they moved into the kitchen to drink tea as the kids played outside. Hermione and Ron didn't argue, something that had everyone on edge. It was odd, Molly thought. Her and Ginny exchanged a few words discussing how when they were together they expected the bickering although they'd never understand it. Hermione was right; Harry and Ginny took after Molly and Arthur and her and Ron would never be that couple. Still, she liked who they were. Now that they were no more, at least for now, she found herself suddenly defending her silence when really this was what they had wanted all along.

"Mummy, can you read us a book?" Hugo dropped his head through two rungs on the bannister, then pulled it out with a dull pop. Hermione winced, swearing she saw the bars widen a bit to allow for easier access of his tiny head.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

She was advancing up the steps now, rubbing at her aching neck. She so desperately wished Ron was here to massage everything out. She had him in the broomshed and so many times before, so why did it sometimes feel good to push him away?

At the top of the stairs, Hugo ran to the bathroom, where Rosie had just exited. She smiled at her mother before disappearing into her room to hide her head behind a book. Aside from her perfect teeth, Rosie was all Ron in looks and wits. She had her mother's brain, something Hermione now saw as a lethal combination the older she became. Rose was a fight between her parents waiting to happen. She was beautiful, like the flames from a gas can, but dangerous all the same.

"All done, mummy!" Hugo said, smiling up at his mother, his world still so untouched by all of this. "Bedtime story now?" he murmured, pulling on Hermione's hand to turn his question into a simple statement. She was happy to oblige.

"What book do you want to read, Hugues?"

They were in Hugo's room now, Hermione kneeling in front of his bookcase. She stared at the spines of the storybooks she used to read as a child, wondering which one to pick. Hugo was often indecisive, leaving the option up to someone else. He was agreeable, and quiet, but she knew he was her special boy just as Rose had once been her special girl. Hermione feared for the day he too grew up and saw the world for how it really was.

"Peter Pan!" He clapped, crawling up onto his bed. Hermione sat on the edge of her son's bed, muttering a tiny spell that sent the book traveling toward them.

"What spell was that, mummy?"

"Accio," she said, leaving every object in the room waiting for her next words.

Hugo's eyes lit up. "I like that one!"

"Me too."

"What's your favorite spell, mummy?"

Hermione smiled, kissing her son's forehead.

"Wingardium Leviosa," she spoke softly, her voice almost breaking.

"What's that do?"

Before she could answer, Rose was in the room, levitating the book Hugo was previously holding in his small hands. Again, Hugo's eyes grew, brightening this time as he saw his sister perform magic in his own bedroom.

"Whoaaaaaa," he hissed, watching as the book was then returned to him.

He opened it, playing with the pages as if her spell had somehow altered the story and the characters inside.

Hermione was stunned, sitting on the edge of the bed still, a proud smile etched across her lips as Rose climbed up to join them. Her daughter simply shrugged.

"It's dad's favorite spell showed it to me a little while ago."

Hermione couldn't stop the beaming in her cheeks or the way her breathing had steadied in the best possible way. She knew she should be mad, maybe even going as far as to stop the magic, but she was proud of her daughter, and happy that she and Ron shared the same favorite spell. How had they never talked about this before? What else didn't she know? Her smile dropped, bringing her feet to the ground as she took the book Hugo was handing her. Rose sat, hugging her brother, a mischievous smile playing across her face.

"Mummy, your finger is bleeding," Hugo pointed, a little pool of blood appearing at the tip of her ring finger.

"Oh," Hermione let out, quickly standing up and walking to the bathroom to retrieve a band-aid.

As she returned to Hugo's room, her son was already asleep. Rose jumped down from the bed. She put the book back on the shelf then walked past her mother without a word. Still, she could feel her mother following her every move, even as the two entered her bedroom. Rose got into bed, pulling the covers over body. She grabbed her book from her bedside table, staring at her mother over the binding.

"Night, mum."

"Rosie, can we talk for a bit, bug?" Rosie blushed. She was seven, going on thirteen. Hermione hated the way she was growing up so fast. She wondered if she hated still being in Muggle school the way Hermione used to. Hermione also wondered if that drew any connection to her outbursts and the way she perceived those around her, especially her parents and the love they shared.

"I don't want to argue, angel, but you know you're not supposed to be doing magic outside of school, right?"

"Dad said the law isn't for me so I should use it while I can."

"No, your father just wants you to be good at that spell so that when you get to school, you can show the other kids you're a Weasley. And so that a boy never shows you up in class..."

Rose bit her lip, finally looking up from her novel. "Why do you always disagree with him?"

Hermione laughed, touching a cool palm to her daughter's warm cheek. The contact made Rose shiver.

"We don't disagree. Your dad and I are just...different."

"I know. Kids at school talk sometimes."

"What? They do?"

"Well, when they ask what my parents do, I don't know what to tell them. Albus always has an answer for Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry but I don't."

"Rosie…" Hermione's voice dropped, pulling her daughter in. "I'm sorry baby."

She pushed her away slightly, creating a small distance between her tiny frame and her mother's.

"And nobody else argues. No one's parents argue the way you guys do. James was making fun of me for it."

"Well James is a boy. And Ginny and Harry are different. But what have I always told you, Rosie? Different isn't always bad, alright? When your friends ask what I do, you can tell them I make it so that those people that are different can live happily."

"So why can't you and daddy live happily? Like Granmum and Grandad or Auntie and uncle Harry?"

Hermione sighed. How do you explain your love to someone else, much less your own child? She was a product of their love-making, of everything Ron and Hermione had ever felt. Hermione wondered why this wasn't natural for her.

"Rosie, I love your dad very very much. Sometimes when we argue, we...we enjoy it."

"That's silly!" Rose spat.

"It's how your father and I have always been. But please, baby, don't think we don't love each other. I love your dad more than...more than…" She hadn't known she was crying until she felt the hot tears stroking her cheeks. Rose felt them too, dropping on the top of her head. She reached up, wiping at her mother's cheeks with the palms of her hands.

"I know you love him, I just don't see it. I can imagine, mum, you taught me that, but Hugo...he worries…"

Hermione smiled, doing her best to compose herself.

"My baby girl, maybe it's you who shouldn't be worrying so much…"

"Dad says I get that from you."

"Your father is a brilliant man, he is."

Rose beamed, giggling slightly. "That's not what he says you think…"

Suddenly, Hermione got serious, Rose mimicking her attitude the way only a child can.

"Do you miss your daddy, Rose?" The child nodded, but didn't waiver. "Do you want him back? I can call him now…"

"Are you guys going to argue?"

"I don't know. It seems we always do but-"

"Then no, not yet. Does he hate you for making him leave?"

"Rosie, your father loves me just as much as I love him, you have to believe me here, baby girl…"

Rosie nodded. "How long have you and daddy been together?"

"Well your daddy's been my best friend since I was little. I was eleven when I met him and that was twenty-three years ago." The thought brought a smile to Hermione's eyes. It wasn't Peter Pan but it was a bedtime story worth being told.

"That's a long time. Maybe you two need a break."

Hermione laughed, kissing the top of her daughter's head before standing up. "We've had lots of breaks and you know what, every summer I got home from Hogwarts all I wanted to do was to go back to your Granmum and Granddads house. I wanted to see your dad so badly. I reckon some thing's never change...now get some sleep, my sweet girl." Hermione leaned down once more, Rose taking the initiative this time to kiss her mother's cheek only after wrapping two firm arms around his neck.

"Mum?" Her small voice came out in something like a whimper, causing her mother to pull away. "That's what I meant to tell you."

"What is it, love?"

"You never asked me or Hugo."

"Asked you what?"

"Where we wanted to go to school. When you and daddy were fighting all you cared about was what you wanted but...but you never asked us."

"No you're right love, we didn't. Where do you want to go? I'll ask Hugues in the morning." Her voice faded off as she reached the door now, ready to hit the light switch.

"I want to go to Hogwarts, mum. Like you and daddy. Like a Weasley."

"Well you certainly are a Weasley, babygirl. Now please get some sleep before your father kills me-" Rose's shoulders tightened, causing her mother to change her diction.

"Before your dad gets angry at you for being up so late!" She finished the sentence with a laugh, only one she could muster and create from deep down within her belly. "Sweet dreams, angel."

"Night, mum." Hermione clicked the light, her daughter's room immediately swimming in darkness. She muttered a simple "lumos" creating a glow of light in the otherwise black hallway. Upon entering her room, she grabbed for her cellphone after bundling herself up under the covers of the bed they shared. "Nox," she whispered, the room suddenly growing dark to match the rest of the otherwise quiet house.

Hermione typed his number in, the phone ringing and ringing before going to voicemail. She sighed, clicking the device shut. She knew he'd forget, or maybe she had wanted him too which only willed him to do so. Hermione wished she could apparate to him, but doing that would mean leaving her children home alone. Instead she began talking to herself, hoping he'd hear her in the way he always managed to. She imagined him in their room back at 12 Grimmauld Place, curled under the covers to avoid the house's cool breezes from hitting his naked back as he played with his deluminator. It was a homing device, they knew that now. What Hermione couldn't understand was how even with the power of magic in the form of spells and deluminators, he was a few streets over, wishing to be with her just as she wished to be with him.

"Pick up your phone, Ron," she whispered.


	7. Chapter 7: Talking To The Moon

A/N: Please know that I wrote this story with the full understanding that it was entirely possible that people would respond negatively. With that being said, I wholeheartedly believe in the words I have written down and the story I am telling. If you disagree, then fine but at this point calling my characters "insane" or messaging me to tell me I've created a "shit story" is a waste of your time and mine. In my profile I've stated incredibly clearly that I appreciate constructive criticism and in my opinion, said comments do not count as so. You may disagree, but for the sake of my sanity, I'd appreciate if comments and reviews were strictly meant to help my writing.

The purpose of this story, as stated was to comment on how others perceive the rows between Ron and Hermione. It started with Rose and Hugo (who misinterpreted what they thought was a row), then you saw it with Harry and Mrs. Weasley and soon you'll see it with Ginny. If anything I get that we all react to the separation differently but I need you all to give me the benefit of the doubt and understand that I am the biggest Romione shipper and would never ever put these characters in situations where their essence and relationships are compromised. I put Ron and Hermione in this situation because I knew they could handle it. I think most Romione shippers would agree.

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><p>Ron heard her, but only barely. After arriving home from the Burrow, he immediately reached for the bottle of pills at the bottom of his overnight bag. They were given to him in Auror training after he was diagnosed with anxiety, stemming from severe post-traumatic stress disorder left over from the war. Only Hermione knew, as she often reminded him to take his medication whenever he was especially antsy or restless in bed. Then Ron would joke, reminding her that he had his medicine as he pulled her body close to his, nuzzling at her neck while his hands rested, one above her head, the other on her hip.<p>

Her presence did help, but not the way Ron ever wanted. It often made him drowsy or irritable, something he was already suffering with since taking up residence with his sister and his best friend. When he couldn't sleep at night, he'd click his deluminator on and off, wondering if this is how Harry felt while they were on the horcrux hunt together. Hermione and he weren't married then, but they were in love, and sometimes Ron could tell Harry felt left-out, thinking of Ginny somewhere missing him as much as he missed her.

Staring up at the ceiling, Ron turned over, pressing his deluminator closed one last time. He heard it, unsure of where it was coming from or why. Then, it faded out, Ron guessed she had fallen asleep. She said she'd call, and his phone had yet to ring. Ron sighed, hating her for insisting on using Muggle technology when they could always floo each other. But that was Hermione, strong-willed and hot-headed. She had to be right and even when she wasn't, she made it so that everyone else was wrong.

Ron reached over, checking the time on his mobile. Clicking the button at the bottom of the screen he waited for the glass to be illuminated. Nothing. He sat up quickly, his heart beat quickening as he slowly put the pieces together.

"Shite…" Ron muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He grabbed the spare battery from the bottom of his suitcase, sitting on the couch in the drawing room. It smelled like her, or at least he wanted it to. He remembered that night, both of them falling asleep in her sleeping bag, and then forcing him onto the floor out of respect for Harry, but only if Hermione promised to hold Ron's hand and never let go.

He popped the lithium charge in the back of the phone, the screen immediately lighting up, signaling a full charge. He dialed her number, not needing to think. It rang and rang and then, "Hey you." Her voice was soft and quiet, like she was whispering or trying to be strong to no avail. Hermione rolled over, doing her best not to wake Rose and Hugo who had resumed their usual positions when their father was gone. Only he wasn't gone, not the way he usually is but she didn't have a heart to tell them. It was misplaced at the moment, left back at her in-laws, their grandparents house, with the man they called "dad".

Hermione dropped her bare feet down onto the carpet, sliding out from underneath the covers. A pair of blue pinstriped pajama bottoms fit her lower half, while one of Ron's old white T-shirt covered the rest.

"Did I wake you?"

Hermione sighed, stepping into the bathroom. The tiles below kissed her feet, causing her to move quickly in reaction to their low temperature. She performed a warming spell, also igniting the fireplace in the corner of the room.

"No, just the kids."

Ron furrowed a brow. He walked back over to his bed, leaning against the bedpost.

"What do you mean?"

Behind her, Hermione slid the wooden door shut, and then hit the light-switch with the tip of her wand. She was lost and confused in her own bathroom. "Promise not to get mad?" Giving up, she settled her body back into the tub, her feet laying over the edge pointing down toward the floor as her neck leaned back against the smooth porcelain. She wrapped the blanket she had taken from the bed closer to her frame. It smelled like him, or at least she wanted it to. Hermione thought, clearing her mind of its grogginess to replace the empty space with memories. She thought of them testing out this tub for the first time, or how he rubbed her extremely pregnant belly for weeks before she was due. The tub reminded her of closeness and serenity. As she laid in it now, her eyes tired, she wondered if he'd remember the same things or if he'd instead comment on how she became a different person when she'd hop into the shower with him each morning. "So wet," he'd whisper, seizing her lips against his own.

"No."

Hermione smirked, only causing Ron to smile. That was all she needed to hear to know they were back to normal, whatever that was for them at the time.

"When you're gone, I let the kids sleep in bed with me..."

"Ah, fuck"

"What?" Hermione sighed, gripping the blanket tighter around her shaking form.

"Well they don't sleep on the floor here so..." She could hear his sarcasm and the way he said it made her smile, knowing that before the line was even delivered she'd think he was funny.

"We're really muddying up this whole parenting thing, huh?"

"No, as I told Rosie tonight we're just different. I talked to our daughter, Ron. And we smiled and cried and I was reminded why I love being a mother."

"Had you ever doubted it? You're a great mum, Hermione."

"Sometimes it's so hard, Ron. And it hurts that you're not here, maybe more than it would be even if we were together you'd be going on a mission tomorrow."

Ron sighed, burying his head in his hands. He looked out through the window created by his middle and ring fingers. The gold of his wedding band scraped at his nose.

"Hermione, I'll be fine."

It went silent, and then he heard it, the deep breath Hermione always took before beginning to sob. It was different from how she cried at Dumbledore's funeral and closer to the weeping that possessed her body when Harry told them so many years ago that he was going into the forest without their help. If possible, Ron remembered her crying harder once Harry was gone as she gripped her boyfriend's t-shirt and officially let go.

"I know. I know. It's just you're not mine right now and I feel so ruddied up and I feel like you think I doubt you and I don't want you to underperform. I want you to be brave and strong but then I start to think, you were all of those things before me so who are we if we can't be ourselves when we're married? I don't feel like a good person without you and that worries me. I need to be Hermione, the ministry official not just the mom and wife. I love those things but I feel like if I let them define me I'm only cheating myself. And if it's that way for me it has to be that way for you...All my life I've been there for Harry. He's our best friend and that's what he needed but when's it our turn? I don't want to resent him. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. But when do we get to be the heroes? Can't it ever just be us? You and me?"

"Hermione."

"Yeah?" The fire across the room crackled.

"Are you done?"

She nodded, then contradicted action with words. "I'll never be done. I can't stop thinking and lately it's all I want to do."

Ron sighed, retreating into himself. He did his best to push the worry off his shoulders. Ron begged to watch it scurry away, like an arachnid crawling off the foot of the bed.

"Let's talk about something else."

"Your daughter did a spell today." Hermione spoke flatly, biting at her lip awaiting an answer from Ron. She played with her nails, her hand bundled near her chin.

"Which one?" He was smiling, she could tell that much. Hermione heard it in the way his voice drop, then rose.

"Our favorite," she teased. Hermione could still hear Ron smiling through the receiver. She didn't explain because she didn't have to. Although it was news to her that night when Rose first mentioned it, thinking back it wasn't much of a shock at all. It made perfect sense, more than anything had lately.

"She told you I taught it to her? I'm sorry but she-"

"Ron, honey it's fine." Ron sighed, then Hermione sighed.

"It got me thinking. We've been trying to shelter our kids from so much since they saw us argue and I thought about how we're sheltering them from the good stuff too. Rosie didn't even know we had known each other since we were little. It's like our children look at us like we're these pod people just playing roles, emotionless..."

"Okay, we're not going to be able to get off of this, huh?"

"I'm sorry Ron. If I had it my way you'd be here with me. With us. But she told me she wasn't ready for that. We really scared her. I never thought our rows could scare people. They have such an effect on us and I tried telling her that but she wasn't buying it. How do I tell my daughter that the reason I like fighting with her father is so that we can fuck and makeup later?" The word sounded so beautiful falling from her lips.

"Yeah, please don't tell her that."

"Shush!" Hermione covered her mouth, causing the laugh that was escaping to be stifled, unable to echo throughout their perfectly tidy bathroom. There was nothing for it to bounce off of. It would only arrive back at her lips, hoping to be released once more.

"We're different, Ron. I want her to appreciate that, not resent us for it. We've just been through so much but I can't blame us on the war. We've been like this for 23 years...23 years...can you believe that?"

He could. And he knew that she could as well.

"Bloody hell, have I known you that long?" He laughed it off, loving it all the same.

"Best 23 years of my life." Her words were honest but he could hear her tone change. "The pain, the smiles, the tears, the horcruxes, even the deaths. I hate it but I wouldn't take it back for the world. You're my best friend, Ron. Not just my husband. How could we forget that?"

"We didn't forget. We, uh, we got distracted." He rubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly feeling how exhausted he had been all along. "And when we put the kids down at night we remember but it shouldn't be like that. It shouldn't be something we turn on and off, you're right."

"I don't want to be right, Ron. I want you here. I want my husband back. I want to be better for our children. They deserve that, don't you think?"

"I know they do. And we do too."

Hermione leaned back, letting her neck be caressed by the tub.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe we don't treat each other as well as we should. Maybe I stopped treating you as my best friend because through the course of Auror training and you finishing schooling and then the wedding and the kids I stopped feeling worthy of that title. Maybe you did too, I don't know. But we are worthy. We have to be. For Rose and Hugo and ourselves. When did we stop believing?"

Hermione was listening but her mind was somewhere else. She heard his words but to her, they meant more than pretty lines received over the speaker. He meant them and she believed him, every word he said.

"Today I wish you were here. Hugo was so happy seeing Rose and I do magic. I know it's in him Ron, it has to be. I'm just waiting for him to see its okay to do it. He just has to believe."

Ron breathed out, the air catching on Hermione's speaker, tickling her ear.

"So do we. It's easy. Like breathing...or magic."

Hermione hung up the phone later that night, unsure of where they stood, but knowing that she, whoever she was right now on her own, missed Ron. The phone calls continued, until Ron went away, called out to Germany on a mission. Each night she went to the tub, bringing her blanket wrapped tightly around the body covered by his t-shirt. Sometimes she'd read, other times she'd just stare at her phone, hoping his voice would soon be heard within it. She'd talk to him sometimes, knowing that this time at night was his favorite to hear her own voice emerge from the metal hanging around his neck.


	8. Chapter 8: Look After You

A/N: So while becoming obsessed with the negative I've neglected to truly thank all of you who have enjoyed this story and have commented with encouraging words time and time again. I cannot thank you guys enough! From here on out things truly begin to pick up so I hope you guys continue to read and take interest in what I have planned for these characters. I have combined a few chapters to hopefully satiate the fact that I haven't been updating as much as I'd like to.

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><p>A leaf cracked underneath a rubber sole, seemingly echoing throughout the moor. They had reached a clearing, Harry and Ron running through a set of trees with intense trepidation. Both men had been going at it for thirteen hours no, all without food, water, or sleep. At one point they were separated, only for Ron to find Harry hiding behind a rock, fending off Death Eaters with verbal charms. Ron didn't even notice them, having already disarmed and maimed several others on his way out of the forest to this particular area. They both lay there, hunched awkwardly behind a boulder they assumed once belonged to the wall of the castle they were protecting.<p>

Other Aurors had been here before, sent to do the same job they were trying to complete. Nothing came of their mission, and so Harry and Ron were called out. The rest of their rank were elsewhere, attending to wounded families in the village with Healers the men had called in upon arrival.

Now, it was nightfall, and only one Death Eater was left unscathed. Atrox was his name, and he was Muggleborn. "Just like Hermione," Ron thought upon reading his folder. He was untrained, and yet always armed with magic even unknown by the Ministry. Ron and Harry had already lost three members of their team to his cult-like group. What was even scarier was perhaps the idea that Atrox had no plan. He was bitter, for reasons unknown to Ron and Harry. He usually attacked half-blood towns in middle class neighborhoods of the city. He was reckless and fearless all the same. He had no family, and no one to love. Atrox was like Voldemort in many ways, though nobody existed in this world anymore with that much power. Harry and Ron thanked themselves for that every day.

"Want some bread, mate?" Ron said, showing Harry the roll he had grabbed from his satchel.

Harry shrugged, reaching for the end of the roll with his dirty fingers. Ron didn't mind. They were famished and exhausted. The least they could do was to share a meal and act as if they weren't wishing they were both home with their families. Somehow Ron's wish was stronger.

"It's warm…"

"Hermione made it."

Harry furrowed a brow. "She still packs your bag for you?"

"Well, yeah. I can pack my bag but-"

Harry cut him off. "You don't have to explain anything to me, you know. Rose and Hugo, they'll get over this. And everyone else...sod 'em. I know you two and I love you guys for everything you've done for me. I love the people you are and the couple you are when you're together. I don't need the words like everyone else does." The two could barely see each other as they continued to walk ahead through puddles as they dodged sharp branches avoiding the urge to light up the nightsky with a simple "Lumos".

"Do they talk about us now? Now that we're kinda fucked up?"

"I don't know. Ginny does. Molly sighs and mumbles around the kitchen sometimes, but it's nothing they didn't do when you two were in Hogwarts or after the war…"

Ron nodded, placing another piece of bread to his lips. He chewed the starch, savoring the taste against his tongue. "What do they say? What does Ginny say?"

"She's my wife, mate, I can't-"

Ron nodded, continuing to chew.

"I'd tell you what Hermione says about you but every time you frustrate her I always tell her I don't want to hear it. You're my best friend too."

"Well she tells you anyway, I know she does…"

"Yeah, she does and most of the time she has a point, you're a dumbass, but I always stick up for you."

"Is this about me sticking up for you with Ginny or you and Hermione?"

Ron stopped a bit, looking around them, his wand jutting out from his glove-covered hand. "Shh."

Harry swallowed down the last bit of bread, staring in the direction opposite of where Ron stood, staring out into the night.

"What is it?"

"Shut the fuck up, Harry…"

"You need to get laid." Harry spoke quickly, taking the words back. "Nevermind," he mumbled.

Ron shook his head, shaking off the tension with a laugh.

"You're a fuck, mate."

Then he heard it again, a rustling, like someone shaking a branch as the wind raked the leaves off of the forest floor. Harry heard it too. He quickly wiped at his glasses, then placed them back on his face. Harry hoped it would make all of this easier, but things were still dark. He began to calculate, wondering how long ago night had fallen. Both Harry and Ron presumed that the morning would come soon, somehow making their jobs even harder.

The rustling intensified, keeping both men on their toes. Then, out of nowhere, a figure appeared from out behind a nearby tree, flinging spells at both men. They ducked, heading off in a dead sprint toward the cave they had resided in during the previous night. Ron felt Harry behind him, right on his tail. They breathed heavily, trying to count the footsteps echoing about. Atrox had to be the one to attack them; he was the only one left.

They ran, Ron finally collapsing behind a large stone wall where Harry joined him a few moments later.

"I think I sliced his leg open," Ron spoke through short intakes of air. "He grabbed for his calf and I just kept running."

"You tripped me." Harry spoke, finally catching his own breath. "You bloody tripped me."

"Wha…?"

"You tripped me, when you turned around to splice him. I don't even think you saw me, you had this mad look in your eyes and then you fucking tripped me."

"Well are you okay?"

"Are you okay, Ron?"

He nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Ron even noticed how dull he sounded, causing him to feel stupid and unworthy. Was this what Hermione was referring to? Who is he as an Auror without her in his life? She was close, or at least closer than she had been when they first decided to separate, but she was still so far from where either of them wanted to be. Ron could feel her hear with him, in that same device hanging from around his neck.

"You haven't communicated with me all day. I try to talk to you about Hermione and you attack my marriage and my friendship with her, which by the way, she's my best friend too. This morning you went off on Brad like he was some commoner in your way. You didn't tell me you had bread until we stopped and then when you heard Atrox you acted like that was information that wasn't important to me. My life's on the line here too, okay? "

"Whoa, okay, mate. I just saved our lives so…"

"No, Ron! Fuck that! You stopped him, sure, but he'll be back. You're fucked right now. I can tell. Your heart's not into this mission. Maybe you should just go."

"What?" He softened, wishing he had water or milk to satisfy his dry throat.

Harry spit. "Leave, Ron! You're not even helping right now. It's clear you're so worried about this Hermione thing."

"Yeah, I am Harry! She's my best friend, my wife. Maybe I am fucked right now. But that doesn't mean I care less about keeping your ass safe, got it?"

Harry began walking, throwing a weak hand Ron's way.

"Yeah, whatever."

Ron caught up to him. He touched his shoulder, pushing Harry so that the two were now facing one another.

"No, not whatever Harry! Get over yourself!"

Silence, then footsteps, all belonging to the boys that once considered themselves to be best friends. Where they stood now, on piles of mud as a strained sun began to rise in the sky, they weren't so sure.

"Whatever." Harry mumbled, the two men walking, leaving their argument behind.

Eventually, they found the cave they slept in the night before, and bunked there again. They didn't speak, or even look at each other. They just slept, but only after Harry offered up some cold soup.

Ron drifted?, his mind forcing him to come to terms with the idea that his childhood had ended a long time ago. He observed what this meant to him, and how he was going to deal with it. He was adult now, not meaning anything more than he was older, with a wife and kids; a family that was all his own. He didn't love the people he loved any less, he just loved them differently. He knew the same could be said for Hermione, probably at home with Hugo and Rose in the bed they usually shared. Ron was jealous, wishing he could be there too. He imagined Hugo with his night terrors, the same ones he got as a child right before performing his first spell. Rose was most likely sleeping like a rock, her body still and waiting. Their mother, most likely beautiful as ever, was plausibly awake. He could feel it, her eyes locked on the skyline, staring down at him somehow. He loved her more today than he did yesterday, but it was different than that curse of love's first rearing that they felt as teenagers. It didn't disappear completely, but it hid away sometimes, begging to be needed and then remembered.

~!~

It wasn't that it was cold, or the fact that apparating from the train station to their home on the other side of London was taking excruciatingly long. It was more the fact that Ron saw their house from down the block, with its windows of yellow light, signaling warmth and life inside, reminding him of the night nearly two months ago when she told him she needed a break. In doing so, Hermione was telling him that he should feel the same way. After all, they are married, and the least they could do is agree, a feat that never came easy to either one of them. Agreeing, was only living up to expectations neither one of them had for each other or the relationship they shared. Things like that worked for Harry and Ginny, and especially for Ron's parents. It didn't, nor would it ever, work for them, though they tried it for awhile. It only led to more arguments, nasty ones, planned and articulated for nights like this.

He was visiting, or rather, that was what he told himself. Hermione had invited him over for dinner; she had the ministry send him an owl with little to no disclosure. It was simple and he remembered now as he approached the house how he stared at her handwriting written on a small postcard as if it was the last piece of her he'd ever hold.

"Hermione?" Ron opened the door to their home, his wand in one hand, and a package in the other. It was simple, symbolically representing the flowers most men would buy for their wives. Hermione liked flowers, she did, but she enjoyed vintage books more, the kind Ron picked up while away on Auror missions that he'd have wrapped in simple brown paper with twine to keep it all together. He hadn't brought a book back last time. Hermione didn't seem to mind, her legs wrapped around his waist as she kissed him into oblivion. She also didn't seem to mind later that night, her hair spread out on their pillows as he kissed her inner thigh. Maybe it bothered her. Maybe it was just something they'd have to argue about later.

The house was silent as Ron's eyes adjusted to the same yellow light from outside. The fireplace crackled, signaling that his wife was close by, and that the floo was closed for the night. He heard nothing of heavy feet or the giggles of children, their children, from either floor. Upstairs was dark, but the kitchen was lit, and as Ron turned to look into the den, he saw a platter of fruit and cheese on the coffee table with two long stem glasses of champagne bubbling nearby. He knew what this was; he had set up something like it many times. If he had to guess, Hermione was in the kitchen, cooking the most perfect of meals. This was confirmed, as she rounded the corner, throwing off her apron to stand before her husband in a champagne colored cocktail dress. The sleeves were lace, and the bodice a soft silk, hitting her right at the knee.

"Ginny agreed to take the kids, I just thought-"

Hermione stood there, her words hitting the floor as Ron stared back at her, his mind elsewhere.

"Oh good, another reason for my sister to think she's better than I am."

"What are you getting at?"

"Just something Harry and I were talking about." He pushed past her, throwing his satchel and wand at the bottom of the stairs. Hermione rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to pick both items up and chuck them at the large mirror near the closet. Instead, she stepped behind Ron, hitting the switch to illuminate the chandelier above. He still did not understand her need for Muggle electricity. Still, Ron let it slide, caring much more about the girl in front of him, this women who so clearly had a plan he was unaware of.

"Ron..."

"Oh yeah, um, you look…" His voice trailed off. He paused, and then finished his sentence. "Ridiculous?" No, that wasn't the word he wanted, or thought would fit. Hermione's eyes confirmed this, widening, then softening as tears began to form in her ducts.

"Ron!" She screamed instead of crying, sometimes liking the way this emotion overtook her body while still leaving her in control.

"No, 'Mione you look stunning!" He grabbed her wrist, pulling her body into his. She sighed, savoring the contact.

"What are you wearing?"

He was sorry, had he said that yet? It was stress, and exhaustion, just the way it always was. He was torn between his wife, beautiful and wanting in the middle of their foyer, and the disdain he still felt for Harry after their failed mission.

"Ughhhhh!" She flailed her arms like a child, releasing Ron's grasp around her tiny wrist. Then, unexpectedly, she unzipped her dress and slid the material up over her head. She stood almost completely starkers in the middle of their foyer, Ron turning around to make sure he had closed the front door behind him. He had, but the windows that lined the large door were uncovered, most likely revealing Hermione's tanned gams, and her bare arms. Ron stared, unable to take his eyes off of Hermione's bare chest. She was still the girl he often caught himself staring at in Potions, but she was a woman now too, her body his after years of lovemaking. On her lower half, a pair of white lace knickers, in what had to be a size too small. They barely covered her bum, but looked perfect now that Hermione was barefoot. She was just as he had seen her the other night before falling asleep, his hands stroking himself up and down, hoping to reach a climax that just never came.

"Take off your shirt!"

"What?" Ron stepped back, then followed his wife into the living room, her hands on her hips just waiting for him to respond. He thanked Merlin upon seeing that the blinds were pulled down, almost as if this too was a part of her plan.

"Take off your bloody shirt, Ronald!"

He obliged, removing one button then all ten from their confines behind starched fabric. She helps him, dropping the material off his shoulders before wrapping it around her own body. She slipped her tired arms into the sleeves then buttoned it up.

"Let me..." Ron reached forward, fingering the buttons into their tiny slits. It reminded himself of something else, his cheeks immediately flushing at the thought.

"If you don't like my dress or the dinner or the candles or whatever then I'm sorry. I thought tonight would be good for us. I was trying to find whatever it was we had when we were younger."

"You never did these things when we were younger, Mione...and you didn't have to!" he defended.

"I liked you best like this anyway. Maybe with your reading glasses, with your head stuck in a book." He nipped at her neck causing her to smile at the sensation. "Sexy."

"You're hurt," she spoke, pushing him away.

He winced under her touch, her small fingers seeming foreign to him after all this time. Her fingers were along his hairline, then on the cuts on his fingers. He was bruised and damaged, causing an ache deep within Hermione.

"No, just a bit cut up."

"Ron, you need to stay safe. The kids hate seeing you like this."

"And what about you?"

She was already off, walking toward the cabinet on the far wall near her bookshelf. In it, bottles of dittany and other pain relievers. Their dinner idly sat on the kitchen table, ignored. This was where they needed to be right now.

"Do you remember when you were splinched? Back when we were traveling..."

Hermione's voice faded out then back in. Traveling was, of course, what she referred to the Horcrux Hunt as. It was a significant time in her life but one that caused pain that never really went away. It was easier to call it something else, almost as if the nickname gave way to ignoring its existence.

"Not really. I remember apparating and you leaning over me crying and then I remember waking up in the tent with your head resting on me as you stared up at me like I was special or something. I don't know, you just looked so...beautiful. And you smiled but then Harry came in and you moved away and we never really got to talk about it."

"We can talk about it now. I was terrified. I slept with you that first night."

"Wha?" Ron stammered.

"Yeah. You weren't coherent. You were so out of it and the dittany wasn't working the way it should have been. And I was bloody angry. It was the first time I hated Harry for putting us in danger. For putting you in danger. I think a part of me will always hate Harry for that, no matter how much I love him. When you see someone you're so completely in love with hurting like that, it doesn't go away." She paused before continuing, "I still feel that every day. I get this pit in my stomach when you leave and even now that you're back it's still there."

Ron reached into give her a hug, pulling her body so close to his that she was breathing against his pounding chest as he smoothed back her hair before placing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm right here."

"I know. But I feel like we're always being challenged. I saw Ginny today and she talked about how we're always fighting to stay together. And she's right. We're always fighting. Each other. Our work. Our family. It's exhausting. And then I think about how I haven't let go of all that stuff from before and maybe that's why I'm so emotionally drained."

"You can't feel everything for us all, Hermione. I'm right here. And you're my wife and you look so goddamn sexy in my work shirt. I want you to feel safe and secure in this world. You and Rosie and Hugues. That's why I love my job. And I'm not hurt. Not now. Not with you here right now. You see, I can forget. You need to too."

Hermione was sitting on the couch now. She popped a strawberry in her mouth, then placed a raspberry to Ron's lips, her husband savoring the fruit, his favorite, before kissing the top of her fingers.

"I love you. So much."

Her voice didn't waiver. Instead, she leaned in, tasting fruit on Ron's tongue as it mingled with her own.

Ron pulled away, her lips still sticky against his own, slowing the entire process down.

"Mmm. Me too. Love you, I mean."

Both chuckled, before returning their lips to the correct positions.

She was on his chest now, his bare chest, with only his work shirt covering her petite body to separate them. His jeans had traveled lower, his briefs now poking out at the top. Hermione placed a lazy finger to his stomach, letting it dance around his bellybutton before raking through the coarse hair at the lower half of his abdomen.

"How was work?"

"Let's not talk about that..."

"Ron, sweetheart..."

"Harry and I aren't talking." His own voice surprised him, his words coming out much quicker than he ever thought was possible.

"But please don't yell at me. I don't want to hear-"

"I'm not going to yell, darling. I'm sorry your day was awful. Did you hand in your papers?" Hermione asked.

The term was Ministry speak for "completing a mission". Hermione always smiled as a folder of Ron's paperwork came across her desk, just waiting to be verified. She'd sign them, but only after reading carefully through each footnote and scribble, loving how it echoed the conversations they had each night before bed. He told her everything, even the things she didn't want to hear. It made Hermione smile, just thinking about how she was positive Molly and Ginny didn't receive the same treatment, something they thought was a favor from their spouses while Hermione wouldn't have it any other way.

"Not yet. But we were so close. I would have had him if Harry wouldn't have brought up you!"

Hermione pressed a palm to Ron's chest, using it to rest her head on something other than his skin. Sometimes even that was too much.

"Me?" She furrowed a brow. "What did I do to Harry?"

"I don't even know. He said my heart wasn't in the mission because of you and-"

"But you said you almost caught the guy..." Her voice was raised, but she wasn't yelling. This was Hermione's way of defending Ron. He was her best friend. She wondered if Ginny could say the same thing about Harry.

"I did! He was following us. I could just tell and then he was gone. But I heard him. I told Harry to shut up so we could track him. I just can't believe he wanted me to leave!"

Hermione sat up.

"Ron, he asked you to leave? He can't do that. He's not your superior. He's not even-ughh!" She let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing at her forehead with both hands.

"I know that. But he's Harry. Harry Potter. And he can do what he wants."

She softened now, knowing this wasn't who they were or who they wanted to be. They were lost in something bigger than their friendship with Harry.

"Ron, you know that's not fair."

"No, it's not." He agreed without thought. "But I'm bloody pissed. Who gives him that right?"

"Maybe he cares. I hate it too but Harry's never been good with emotion. Maybe he was concerned with you...with us."

"I'm not concerned with us so he shouldn't be! He's an idiot!"

"Yeah, he is."

Ron looked down at Hermione, shocked by her honest words. Then, he looked to himself, wondering if he had missed something.

"Should I...should I be worried?"

Hermione laid back down, pressing a palm to Ron's cheek. Each of her legs straddled one of his own, with her back nestled back into the couch.

"No, baby. I'm right here. We're not divorced. I shouldn't even call it a split really. We're just separated."

"I hate it." He paused. "I'm allowed to hate it right? I hate the word. I never want to be separate from you. We're married. And now we're parents. I want all of us back together. I want to come home to a noisy house. I miss it."

"I'm right here. I miss it too and I'm sure we'll have it back soon."

"Well that's what I want. I'm sick of sleeping without you. Work is...you and the kids are the one thing I'm happy with. Even with Rose being too mature for her own good and Hugo being an introvert. I just...I'm sick of waiting. I waited seven years to have you. And then I had you and I let you slip away. I should have fought you that night. I should have told you 'no' and that I didn't agree. Because I didn't and I still don't. I just saw you lying there, right after we made love and suddenly you didn't want to be touched and I froze. I couldn't breathe. And I don't want to fight I just want you to know I'm sorry for that."

"Did Harry tell you?" She was looking at him now, brown eyes on blue.

"Wha? No. Tell me what? We're not talking..."

"Oh. Right. Well..." She kissed him, her lips searing onto his with a sudden intense heat.

"Yeah. Thanks." Then she kissed him again. When she pulled away, she rested her head back on his chest, her hand running laps up and down his arm.

"You know all the guys on the train were talking about how they couldn't get home to their wives and girlfriends so they could fuck around and I'm here now thinking I just want to hold you. Just like this. For as long as you'll let me."

Hermione kissed his chest, then his lips. She spoke softly, a simple "forever," leaving her small mouth before she closed her eyes and gave in to her body nodding off.


	9. Chapter 9: They Weren't There

A/N: I have a few things to touch upon: 1) I know this chapter is going to cause conflict. This is technically the climax of the story and while it may seem controversial at first glance I did try to leave a plethora of explanations from both sides to explain where I'm coming from. Also, let it be known that I do adore Harry and Ginny and that while Ginny may seem to be a bit irrational in this chapter it will all be explained. I would never put characters in a situation I feel as if they can't handle or a situation that shows them in a poor light. Ginny and Harry will have their moment soon. 2) I'm sure some of you know about the alleged "fanfiction purge" that is currently occurring. I choose not to believe it, nor will I give the group the glory they feel they deserve. In most cases they are probably like You-Know-Who and only feed off of people talking about them. That being said, has made it clear since this issue arose that certain fanfics (mine included) are not meant for this site. Honestly I've read the guidelines and this wasn't clear to me until they came out and explicitly stated it. IF this fanfiction is deleted I will be posting on A03 (Archive of Our Own). I already have an account there and it is under the same username as my current one on here. Please follow me there god forbid something should happen. If you need an invite to AO3, send me a PM and I'll see what I can do.

* * *

><p>Somehow, April days in London traveled quickly from nights that fell into Autumn, rising eventually bringing about mild Spring mornings, glittering the sidewalks with fresh flower petals and a glistening of rain from the darkness that had just recently passed. For this reason, among others, Hermione decided to wear a pair of Ron's old jeans, cuffed mid-calf. You could see her fair skin peeking out at the knees behind rips signifying wear and commitment. She was slender in his jeans, but beneath the denim she felt protected, as if nothing could hurt her, not even the wind that threatened to peek past the fabric, touching her skin.<p>

She looked and felt like the mom she had always dreamed of being. Ron confirmed this, stepping into her from behind, rubbing his arms around her stomach to pull her close. She smiled, her head resting back, fitting perfectly over his heart. She heard it, the light "flup, flup, flup" underneath his cotton flannel. They were perfect like this, so close to who they used to be.

Last night had ended just the way it began, with Hermione wearing Ron's clothing, that old tattered shirt, while he, in just his trousers, held her, the two falling asleep in time. She woke up a few times and they took their turns crying, then kissing away tears. Things like this took time. Things like this were necessary, no matter how painful.

When they left the house that morning, Ron grabbed for the keys, instantly wanting to drive after believing it was his turn. It was, but that didn't stop Hermione from putting both hands on her hips in protest. She gave in, only after he attacked her neck, pinning her up against the expensive car he insisted they buy to make the children feel normal. That word seemed laughable now as they drove across London (rather quickly, Hermione thought) to pick up their children who had spent the night away from them so they could have alone time to configure their separation. That was normal, right?

Walking into Grimmauld Place, Hermione felt Ron close behind, his palm pushing into her backside with the perfect amount of pressure. That was normal, she told herself inwardly. "Harry? Gin?", she called out.

"In here!", a voice yelled from the kitchen, characteristically belonging to Ginny. They followed it, walking all the way to the back of the house, to the same room they remembered sharing smiles, gifts, and meals in. The kitchen was bright, unlike the rest of the house. Not much had changed since Ron and Hermione lived here, nearly a decade ago. The house never lost its hues of grey and blue. Aside from the children's rooms, painted in greens and pinks, everything was remotely the same. Harry didn't have the heart to change any of it, and Ginny rather liked the lack of decorating she had to do. To her, the state of their home was more important than the colors on the walls. She felt at peace here, with her husband and their children; the life they had created. Hermione didn't mind it, but parts of the house still bothered her. She'd never fully be able to accept these memories as her own.

At the end of the table near the stove, all of the children sat, Rose and Hugo squatting on their knees to pound at the dough on the floured surface before them. They licked at their fingers, savoring the brown sugar taste of treacle tart.

Hugo jumped down, running toward his parents. "Mummy! Daddy!"

"Hi bud." Characteristically, Ron bent down to embrace his son, kissing his cheeks then ruffling his hair as he stood up. Hugo then reached for his mother, Hermione always unable to deny her son affection when he looked up at her in this position, his arms outstretched toward her. She gave in, hoisting him up on her hip as she began to wonder when he'd outgrow this position, and more importantly, if she was ready to let him.

Still at the table, Rose just smiled, receiving a hug and a kiss from both of her parents, nonetheless. She smiled her way through it, secretly missing the warmth of her mother's kisses and the security her father's hugs provided. "What are we doing?", Hermione sing-songed, staring at the pans on the stove behind Harry and Ginny. Ron was already sitting at the table with his nieces and nephews, Lily climbing on his back as he talked to James and Albus about the Quidditch tournament they were going to attend soon.

"Making deserts!" Hugo screeched, pointing to the stove and the raw treacle tart that sat on a cooling tray, ready to be placed in the oven.

"Trying to make deserts," Ginny corrected.

Hermione changed her attitude, ready to put Hugo down. "Can I help, Gin?"

"Nope, almost done actually." Frustrated, Ginny blew a piece of hair out of her face. She smiled down at Lily, regretting ever letting the children help her cook before Sunday dinner. Her sundress was practically ruined, and Ginny feared looking underneath the table to find her sweater bundled up and undoubtedly wrinkled.

"As usual..." Harry groaned, walking out of the kitchen hastily.

"What's his deal?", Ron piped up.

"Ron, I'm not going to get into it, alright? Please, not in front of the kids..." The timer for the stove went off, signaling it was pre-heated. The door dropped open without assistance, and one by one the pies were carefully placed inside.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron was playing with a crayon now, pulling the paper off the wax tube. His brow furrowed menacingly at his sister.

"Ron, just leave it, babe. Okay? It's not worth it." She was touching his shoulder now, doing her best to calm what would surely have turned into a disagreement between siblings.

"Hermione, he can deal with himself!" Ginny spoke up, causing Ron to stare at her in disgust. Now it was Hermione's turn to walk away, hands raised, leaving the rest of her family behind. Hugo watched her go, then retreated to his father, climbing on his lap before joining the kids at the table, watching everyone blow powdered sugar back and forth across the smooth wood.

~!~

Harry and Ginny decided to apparate, something that scared Hermione who watched them go with more than one child to each parent. Still, they were gone, appearing at the Burrow minutes after Ron and Hermione had begun to pull out of the driveway, Hugo placed carefully in his booster seat as Rose sat quietly reading her book. Hugo spent the ride kicking at the back of his mother's seat while his hands played in the air, pushing his tiny blue airplane through the wind he created in the backseat. Rose ignored the activity, instead peering out at her parents over the book she was currently enveloped in. It was one of her mother's old favorites, just as everything she read was.

She saw them, her father's hand on her mother's, both resting heavily on the center console. Occasionally, he'd pick up her hand, kissing her fingers. Then, she'd smile over at him, before allowing her mind to retreat out the window. Rose noticed their affection and how natural it all was. She wanted this all the time, characterized by her mother's ignorance to her brother's tapping feet. Rose wondered if she, even at seven, would ever find something like what her parents had. Then, for only a brief moment, she wondered if the love she'd someday have would be more like her Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry's. Or was it different for everyone, she thought. Does everyone experience love completely differently, paying no attention to rules and social norms? Part of her hoped so, but part of her also hoped that she'd gain her mother's patience and her father's sense of humor for when things got to be less than perfect.

They were pulling into the long dirt road leading into the Burrow. The orchard invited them in, then the Broomshed, then the animals out back. It was all familiar, and the day was shaping up beautifully. Hermione went around to the backseat, opening Hugo's door, her favorite little boy already hopping down from his booster seat. She helped him out of the car, smiling at Ron over the car's roof as he tried to do the same with Rose. She needed less help, never accepting the little she was given. Rose was already at the door by the time Ron was standing at the hood of the car waiting for Hermione with Hugo in hand. Carefully, as if it required all the thought in the world, he placed a palm to her lower back, guiding her to the door they both had entered a million times.

Upon entering, laughter and chatter traveled outside, tickling everyone's ears. Hermione just smiled. She grabbed the coats from the children then handed them to Ron to hang up. He willingly did so, using magic sending the coats floating into the now open closet. Rose and Hugo smiled at their grandparents, receiving kisses and hugs by the plenty. As they pulled away, they ran upstairs, needing no explanation for where the other grandchildren were. This was routine for them, the adults downstairs discussing the world and their places in it while the children remained higher up, untouched by the news and seriousness being spread below.

On the couch, Hermione leaned into Ron. "I'm going to go get the kids some drinks and snacks...do you want anything?"

"No…" Then he was on his feet, pulling his wife up to join them as they sauntered out of the living room to the other side of the stairs where the kitchen lay in silence. Pots stirred themselves on the stove. The table was already set, and the serving dishes were doing their best sitting on the counters ready to be filled.

Not thinking about the specific mood her husband was in, Hermione bent over, grabbing small bottles of pumpkin juice from the fridge. She placed them on the same platter where she had just recently set crackers and veggies. Some people doubted Hermione as a mother when she first got pregnant. Ron knew better, knowing that there'd be moments like this one where he'd never get enough of not only sharing their lives in marriage but also parenthood. She was perfect at this, just as she was everything else she did; perfectly in her own way. Everyone said those things because of Hermione's aversion to common sense practices, her heart instead adoring books and traditional teachings. She loved her family but not in the same way that Ron did. The love they showed toward their children was equal, created out of years of the two of them being in love, something built on the strongest foundation: a friendship.

As Hermione arranged the snacks and drinks onto different plates for each grandchild, Ron came up behind her. Before his hands hungrily grabbed at her waist just as they did that afternoon those many months ago, he brushed away the hair off her neck, nibbling at the skin below her ear. He couldn't see her face but he felt what she felt, her stomach doing somersaults underneath his fingers. "Ron." Hermione tried, quickly giving up. Then she tried something else, her tone changing immediately. "I love Gin, but-"

Ron knew that move and he wasn't going to give up that easily. "Don't talk about her right now." He turned her around, quickly picking up her body and placing her roughly down on the counter. He needed her, now, and in the kitchen. He loved her like this, the same way he had had her many times before. After Hermione got over her initial qualms with lovemaking and relaxed enough to realize that there was nothing she loved more, she allowed Ron to force her into being adventurous. The countertop, this same one, served as their third location, but only after they had previously taken on the broomshed and the Gryffindor common room.

"Mhmmm," Hermione moaned, dropping her head back. Ron found his wife underneath the waistband of her jeans-his jeans, touching the silk of her black knickers. She purred into his touch, her mouth now open as he tried to explore her there as well. She gave in, breathing in sharply as he inserted a finger, then one more, kissing away the tension these past months had created.

"You want me?" Hermione nodded, whispering against his lips in ecstasy. Her head then dropped back, falling further away from her husband as he inserted another finger into her wet folds. One of Ron's hands was holding Hermione's wrist to the countertop while the other was extended in the air, staring as her juices drenched his calloused fingers.

"Don't hit her!" The words were not their own and although both Ron and Hermione knew they belonged to Hugo, they were still foreign. They separated, probably Hugo's intention when he first saw them. Ron stood at the kitchen sink, his back facing everyone as they all hurriedly filtered into the cramped room. Hoping he still had time, he licked at his fingers, tasting his wife on his heated skin. She tasted just as good as she looked underneath the light shining down from above.

Hugo stood at the bottom of the steps staring at his parents in horror. Everyone was silent and serious, unsure of what to make of what they just heard. Harry was the only one to laugh, unable to keep his composure. He's seen this before, and many other scenes like it. Ginny gave him a glare, something she had never quite mastered the way Hermione had with Ron. Then again, the latter couple had more practice. Nobody would ever know these two the way that Harry did. He took pride in that, proud of the fact that his eyes were never able to forget how Ron looked at Hermione the same way he did when they first met. It was a mixture of wonder and confusion, the same expression on his face now as he looked over to his wife for guidance. Hermione said nothing, her face softening into a frown. Her eyes stiffened, staring out at everyone as she decided what stance to take: defensive or clueless.

"Hugo, wha?" Hermione stepped forward, fixing her shirt. At this point she was flaunting her flustered state, hoping everyone would catch on to her actions and the laughter of her best friend to know exactly what was going on in the kitchen before her son entered.

"You looked like before, Dad!" Hugo was crying, showing more emotion in small sobs than he had all day. He was like this sometimes, reserved and calm one moment then completely lost the next. Hermione and Ron searched for a family member to blame the trait on but only came up empty handed. Even so, they knew what he was referring to. That night back in the kitchen would forever haunt them, at least until the day they could explain to their children about all the facets of their love. At the ages of seven and five, Rose and Hugo were blind to love outside of the perfect. It scared them too, because more often than not it existed in much different forms in their own home.

Ginny stepped forward. Releasing her hands from her hips, she rubbed at Hugo's back, sending Hermione onto the offensive side of things. Hugo was not a toy to be played with when convenient but he was her son first and Ginny's nephew next. Hugo would always be Hermione's little boy and she had Ron to thank for that. She wondered where he had gone now. Sure, he was standing next to her, his eyes searching Hugo's for permission to make everything better. He found nothing, the small child, his own little boy crying into his aunt's blouse. "Like before? What is he talking about, Ron?", she asked, staring at her brother with eyes of a cool blue. They resembled steel, or something like it, cold and shiny and lifeless. "Hermione?"

"Ginny, he doesn't know what he's talking about. He's confused." Hermione's voice came out, agitated and simple. Ginny wasn't a mind Healer. This wasn't her place to diagnose and speculate about something she was only ignorant to. To do so would be to push her further into the ignorance, away from Ron and Hermione, away from the truth.

Without thinking, Hermione picked up her son from Ginny's arms, kissing at his cheeks, smattering his skin with love. He tried to resist, but was unable to. His body was too weak, nothing compared to the love his mother felt for him. "Arthur, can you take Hugo upstairs please?" The child pushed his mother away, much in the same way Rose had that night back in February.

Arthur disappeared up the stairs with the boy, no doubt placing him on his own bed to allow sleep unto him, sometimes the only cure for a child of five. "Ron? What's going on with you two?", he heard upon descending the stairs. His wife, was standing across from their son, her hands on her wide hips. Her eyes were a mixture of anger and hurt. Mostly, she was confused, unable to remedy the situation and make sense of it all.

"Nothing! Nothing's going on." Ron placed what was now a sweaty palm to his forehead. Then, as if she acted without thinking, something Hermione rarely did, she stepped into her husband, placing her hand to his cheek. Silently, her thumb played with his ear as she stroked, deliberately calming his skin with a simple touch. Her lips were nearby, teasing the outer corner of his mouth. He breathed, steadily now, never wanting this, whatever it was, to end. She could sooth him the way nobody ever could. Hermione had gotten Ron through a million other things in their lifetime, why should this be any different?

Soon, she was gone, standing next to her husband holding his hand. It was like a game she used to play at family parties, the idea of a long line of people holding hands to fend off the individuals that would come running toward them. The idea behind it was of course strength in numbers, meaning that if that were the case, Ron and Hermione would undoubtedly lose. Still, they both felt strong, perhaps more resilient than they should have. "Is it true, Ron?"

"No." It came out in a whisper.

"Hermione, does he hit you?" Harry gave Ginny a disgusted look. She ignored him, her hands still planted firmly on her waist. Giving up, he whispered something in her ear, then stared at her, clearly wanting to say so much more.

"Oh, seriously! Have a little faith in your son, and your brother will you? He's never laid a hand on me, not like that. He's gentle and kind. Don't be daft!" It was the first time Hermione had ever truly stood up to her in-laws. In part, she had never had a reason to raise her voice before. Now, she saw no other way of dealing with all of this. Clearly it was not enough for her and Ron to be together all this time, so clearly in love from where she stood. There'd always be people to doubt them, she knew this. What Hermione didn't know, or rather, what she hated to admit after Ron tried mentioning it once, was how the world would never truly be on their side. Both, however, could never fathom that there own family would be part of that world, the same one that was just waiting for them to fall apart. There were reasons, beyond schooling and painful memories, and missed moments that kept them fighting for the couple they wanted to be.

"I'm sure he is..." Harry slapped his knee, laughing. Hermione and Ron smirked, unable to get mad at him with each laugh calling a truce. They were always thankful for Harry and the way he always supported them as both individuals, and then those same people, his two best friends, working for a much stronger common goal. He had evidence beyond what the world saw, or wanted to see. It was something that once you saw, you were unable to blink it away, and in crowded rooms and silent moments you found your eyes searching for it once again.

"Harry, shush!" Ginny slapped at his shoulder.

She was a bit stronger than either of them had planned, causing Harry to step away, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Ginny, leave them alone. It's clear Hugo confused them fucking around for Ron roughing her up. It's been known to happen..."

"Harry!" Molly's cheeks reddened at the thought of her adult children, both Harry and Hermione included speaking in such mature tones. Where had those children in their robes and cloaks gone? In moments like these, she wished to go back to then and hug them all, urging each and every one of them not to grow up so quickly. It was inevitable for pieces of childhood to be left behind when running at such a consistent pace.

"I'm sorry Molly, but this is funny. And seriously, Ron would never hit Hermione."

"Thank you!" Ron stepped forward raising a palm to Harry as if showing off a new broom.

"You're hurting these children," Ginny spoke up. "Rose can't even look at either of you and you're her parents! That's not fair!" She wanted to spit. A certain rage overtook her body, something Hermione immediately sensed.

"No Ginny, what's not fair is how you feel the need to mother my children. You weren't there! You didn't hear Rosie tell me she thought we hated each other. You didn't have so much emotion going through you that you acted irrationally and told your husband whom you love so incredibly much that you wanted to separate. Stop acting like you know! You don't know! And now I'm starting to think none of you do. Harry gets it. He's been there. You weren't. Keep your nose out of what's not yours. This is my family. This is my marriage. We've worked this hard to get it to this point, and we'll work to keep it, you got it?"

"Love, it's-" Ron tried to grab for his wife's hand but she quickly pushed it away. This was her time to defend herself, something she'd never get enough of. While she wished for his skin to be on hers, she didn't want it to be such a restrictive manner. She wanted him to set her free, in the same way she had wanted for the past few months. Not here, not in the same place they were being reprimanded. They deserved better.

"Hermione, I'm sor-"

"Stop, Ginny! Dear God! Just because you're a Weasley doesn't mean you get a free pass to point fingers and hate anything you don't understand. Maybe you've forgotten but I'm a Weasley too. It's not just a name I have now. It's who I am and it's who my children are. If you understand one thing, know that we know who we are and where we come from and we'll get through this, got it?" As Ron placed a hand to Hermione's shoulder, she softened. Breathing in for what felt like the first time in minutes, she gave her body permission to return to its normal capacities.

Ginny kicked at the ground with her sneaker. Finally, she looked up to her sister-in-law through wet eyes. Her arms were holding her own body up. "I really am sorry, you know…"

"I know you are and I am too. But we need family right now. Stop with the judgements. Stop acting like you know what's going on when that couldn't be further from the truth. Sure, we're not like you guys, but you know what, we're okay with that, and as our family, you should be too!"

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, his frizzy-haired best friend walking toward the stairs with deliberation. He had words kept away that he knew he'd have to save for later as Ron ran after his wife. They heard mumbling at the top of the stairs then a slamming door. Spells didn't pop, buzz, or vibrate through the house. It was just a closed door, with nothing but wood to protect them from everyone outside.


	10. Chapter 10: How We Love

A/N: I was originally going to post this chapter as two separate ones but I rather enjoy the juxtaposition of the relationships displayed here. These two chapters were also my favorite to write. I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them and as usual, thank you all for favoriting, subscribing, and leaving reviews on this story. It really means a lot to me!

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><p>Ron was too drained to even comprehend what was just said between him and Hermione. They spoke like that sometimes, not understand words but instead latching onto the meanings behind them. She told him she wasn't mad at him, or even angry in general, just tired of the way people saw her. He remembered agreeing, or at least repeating a sentence that sounded similar. Then he nodded, and she nodded and then they were gone, into his old room to block out the same world they begged would someday understand them.<p>

Hermione grabbed for a tissue from his old bookshelf, the dust only exacerbating her falling tears. Her eyes were red and her cheeks pale, but Ron still grabbed her face, pulling her lips into his. He hadn't a care for her imperfections, for he saw none. She was just as beautiful now as she ever would be.

"That was..."

"You taste yummy…" Hermione spoke, staring up at her husband, her eyes suddenly much larger than they usually were. Her arms, with her fingers dabbing at her eyes with the single tissue she held, were the only thing to separate them. She forgot, momentarily, and maybe on purpose, what it was she was truly upset over. It was hard to be mad, sometimes hard to feel anything with Ron this close. She felt numb in the best way possible.

"No, Hermione, I'm serious." He grabs her chin, kissing away her tears. "That was so hot." Now his lips were on her neck, kissing her collarbone with an intense heat he couldn't explain. He suddenly wanted her, more than he usually did. "Fuck, Hermiohh…" He couldn't even get the rest out. Ron's words bubbled in his throat, making breathing difficult. This was something she did without warrant. It was all because of her, and yet it was completely Ron's fault. Since he was eighteen she had been his. He'd never be okay with the nights they spent apart.

Hermione smirked, then let her lips open to reveal a small laugh. "Shut up! Your mum and sister probably hate me now..." She sniffled, her face returning to its usual features, flushed and hesitant.

"No, no, baby. You're right. You're family. All of us, we're family. They need to respect our decisions and help us through them." Ron grabbed Hermione's hands causing the tissue she was carrying to drop to the floor silently. It floated down, only to be stepped over as they shuffled back toward the bed. They were sitting, like two nervous teenagers, both knowing what was going to happen, but unsure all the same.

"I wanted you so badly back in the kitchen." Hermione muttered, quickly searching her husband's eyes for an answer.

Ron laughed heartily. "What?"

"You heard me! Damn Hugo and his impeccable timing. Takes after Harry, I suppose…"

"Oh Merlin, woman you're going to be the death of me." He pecked her lips, but it was her that brought him down onto her, deepening it all as her back came into contact with the familiar material of his bedspread.

"Ron, it's been almost a full three months." She spoke in between kisses. His shirt was off now, revealing a chest she had missed. Was it possible he had somehow gotten bigger since the last time they shagged? Hermione shook off the thought, running her hands down her husbands shoulders. She stopped at his elbows, bringing her fingers to the belt buckle that stared at her as he hovered above her, his mouth attacking her own.

"I know..." He stopped, needing the leather of his belt to be gone. Hermione only smiled, for once letting him remove the material before returning to his position hovering above her, half-naked. He skimmed at her chest, speckled with freckles that came with age and sun exposure. She was right; she was a Weasley, his Weasley. Still, it was her he had to thank for the strength back in the kitchen. He was nothing without her, especially like this.

Hermione pulled away, blinking up at Ron. His lips were swollen and his breathing was ragged. "Do you want me? I mean, like before?" She swallowed, awaiting an answer.

"No." A steady pause interrupted her thoughts. "I want you more. I never stopped. I never will." Then he was back on top of her, his lips marking the skin below her ear. He then lapped at the area, mollifying the hurt that appeared there in purple and pink splotches.

Hermione didn't seem to mind, she was already pushing Ron's jeans down his legs with her own. She stopped once the tight material was below his briefs. She grabbed him through the cotton, feeling how warm and waiting he was for her. Every inch of him throbbed in her hand, bucking once as she stroked him slowly through the fabric of his underwear. "Stop teasing," he purred into her ear, grabbing her tiny hands before lacing them with his own above her head. "Don't move," he begged, now straddling her. He stood up, kicking off his jeans. Hermione had already sat up by now, removing her shirt, her fingers already trying to claw at the zipper of her jeans, the jeans she had stolen from him that morning.

"Whoa, I told you not to move!", Ron said, trying to provide evidence for his frustration in addition to that which was currently poking through his briefs. He laughed, entreatingly, pushing emotion out he wasn't even sure he had. He did want to be the one to undress Hermione, but seeing her like this, in just a bra and his jeans was enough to send him over the edge. He nearly came right there, scanning her body with his lust-filled eyes. He saw nothing but her beauty and the way she stared so perfectly back at him.

"I'm sorry…" Hermione whispered. She was kneeling on the edge of his bed now. Lazily, she drooped her arms around Ron's neck, smiling at the fact that he was still taller than her in this position. "Forgive me?" Now she was teasing, her lips near Ron's ear, then encompassing his flesh as her teeth pulled at the skin there. It was an odd sensation, but one that he loved all the same. Hermione surprised him everyday, but when she was like, pieces of skin exposed as her lower body pushed itself into him, she was a surprise all her own. Nothing she ever did in their bedroom or one like this would ever be something Ron could get used to.

He only nodded in response, his lips suddenly needing to feel hers again. "I love you, baby."

She nodded too. "God, yes. So much. I'm in love with you...and-" Ron was sliding the straps of her bra down her shoulders. He stopped, releasing her breasts from their confines as his fingers idly unsnapped the clasp of the peach colored bra she was wearing. She was free for him, her chest full and heaving as she began to breathe heavily underneath his gaze. "Thanks for being my best friend, Ron. I mean that." She was looking at him with eyes he hadn't seen in quite some time. Or maybe these were the same eyes she always had, he just didn't have time to slow down and truly stare at her the way he wanted.

They said nothing. Ron reached for the belt holding up his trousers on his wife's small frame. He undid that, then the button and zippers followed. He smoothed the jean material down her legs, letting it pool near her knees as he cupped her womanhood, pressing the a ball of his hand into her sensitive flesh.

"Mmm!" Hermione moaned quickly and in a high pitched tone. She needed more of him, maybe all of him. She needed more than hands could provide. She wanted to feel him inside of her, rocking both of them to their climax. She also wanted to be the one to bring him there. Last time was his turn, now it was hers.

"Lay down?" Hermione whispered, suddenly retreating far inside herself. Like a little girl, her eyelids fluttered as Ron joined her on the bed, laying back for Hermione to stare down at him. Still on her knees, she pulled at the waistband of Ron's boxers, pulling the offensive material off. She threw it over her head, not caring where it landed. Then, her head was down, swallowing him hole as his tip, already slicked with pre-cum tickled the very back of her throat. She wanted to choke, the mere length of him enough to send her there, but she instead looked up at him, his eyes closed as he gathered her hair at the back of her head. He guided her, up and down, stretching and filling her mouth as he moved inside of her.

One hand rested underneath at the bottom of his shaft where his belly met the rest of him, while the other played with his balls. Every part of him was warm, something that only increased as Hermione slowed down her movements, waiting for him to spill into her mouth. She needed him like that. She wanted to taste him.

She removed her mouth from him, just long enough to suck in a long stream of air. Droplets of water formed in the corner of her eyes from the pain already existing in the back of her throat from her suppressed gag. She adored the way Ron tasted, so much so that she rarely got enough. She just wished it were easier for her after all these years. He deserved that from her. Still trying to catch her breath, Ron reached forward, thumbing at the single tear that was beginning to fall down her flushed cheeks. It reminded him of the first time they had done this on this same bed, sixteen years prior. She was hesitant, something she had lost just in the way she had lost her virginity in the summer days before she was about to leave for Hogwarts. Still, some things never changed.

Ron knew now, not to question Hermione. He remembered asking her if she wanted to stop, then telling her she did not have to do this for him if it bothered her so much. Naked, and offended, Hermione began to dress, telling Ron she wasn't bothered, just uncomfortable. The tears, she told him, were a product of her embarrassment at having a mouth that was incapable of properly taking care of her loving boyfriend. Ron only laughed, adding fuel to the already raging fire. But he knew better. Hermione was soon back on the bed, trying again. If she was anything aside from beautiful and caring, she was persistent. Eventually, it became easier, but never as easy as Hermione had hoped.

Soon, she was down between his thighs, her mouth teasing up and down his length before her lips encased his tip once more. She slid down, all the way. Her lips practically kissed at the base of his shaft, and Hermione was stunned her throat didn't reflex the way it usually wanted to. She began to bob, Ron's soothing hand rubbing at the back of her head as he guided her head up and down his member. "Hermione, I'm gonna-"

She nodded. He could almost see her smile as she continued to suck him off. He came moments later, his upper body leaning back on his arms as his lower body turned to mush. Hermione swallowed his seed, then proceeded to lick at his tip.

"Christ, Hermione…" Ron was catching his breath now. He stared at his wife, her nude knickers revealing a wet patch at the apex of her thighs. She was crawling toward him on both knees. She dropped down to the bed, allowing him to cover her body with his own. He kissed at her shoulders, her collarbone, her neck, and then her lips. She tasted like everything he knew she would. "Beautiful," he murmured, a flat palm over where her bellybutton lay. He moved lower, pushing past the thin material to where parts of her waited for his touch.

"Ron, please don't tease, can't we just-?"

"Just what?" He was teasing, but not in the way she had asked him not to. He knew exactly what she was asking. He wanted it too, but he felt bad, especially after all of the wonderful things her mouth had just done for him.

"You don't want me to?"

"No, well...yes...later?", she settled. "Ronald, please, I just, I neeeeed…" She moaned, Ron's hands not even touching her. "Fuck." She spoke simply, letting the curse word fall off her pink lips. Quickly, she moved her hands up to her mouth, to cup anything else that threatened to slip out.

Ron just laughed. He kissed her hands, then moved them, so his lips could settle on hers. "Sexy," he breathed, biting her lip before kissing her. They both breathed in, needing oxygen almost as much as they needed each other. They snogged, good and well, like the teenagers they once were. The thrill of the door being unlocked and no spell to keep noise from spilling in or out of the thin-walled room, had them both hot.

"Show me." Hermione managed to breathe out. Ron looked down at her with questioning eyes. "Show me how much you want me, Ron. I need to- I need to feel that."

Slowly, not wanting to rush any of this, he rid Hermione of her knickers, leaving her completely starkers on his childhood bed. She looked just as she did then, only her mind was different, more grown up. They'd both be lying if they failed to admit they had lost bits of themselves along the way. Together, they were the same. Alone, they were useless.

Ron kissed down Hermione's abdomen, past the place where she carried their children for nine months. He then licked, lapping at her juices, quickly and if only to lubricate, before pressing himself steadily into her. Nails digging into his back, he made sure to go as deep as he could. Hermione was only smiling as her body became reacquainted with the feeling of her husband so deep within her.

They kissed, one then seven times, unsure of whether to move. Hermione didn't want this to end, but quickly she thought of Rose and Hugo and the life she was supposed to live outside that door. "I know, baby," she moaned, his fingers flicking at her clit.

Ron began to move, quick, then slow motions, filling his wife, then retreating before returning once more. With each thrust, Hermione met him, her hips launching off the bed as she squeezed her inner walls more tightly around him. This made him lose it, growing harder as she licked at her lips and giggled. "C'mere," she mumbled, grabbing at the back of her husband's neck to bring him down to a fiery kiss.

It was slow and deliberate when they both finally climaxed. With schedules and children and work, it seemed like years since they last climaxed together. As it happened, both of them coming down from their high, they kissed passionately. Ron embraced Hermione, her head tucked into his shoulder as the last few shudders of her orgasm coursed through her. Ron bucked one last time, spilling his seed deep into his wife. The warmth between her legs was comforting; a feeling she missed. "Don't go," she whispered, unsure of whether her unsteady voice was even capable of producing sentences in this state. Ron listened. He remained inside of her, loving the closeness. His wife just stared up at him, playing with his face in the same way a small child would.

"I'm ready to be a family again."

"Me too...but, Ron?" He swallowed, fearing the words that came next. "We've always been a family. Nothing's ever going to change this."

~!~

Molly and Arthur had gone upstairs with the grandchildren, playing with blocks and coloring books as the room spun itself further into chaos. Downstairs, Rose and Hugo sat on the steps, sharing cookies and juice that their mother had brought up for them earlier. Rose rubbed at Hugo's back, doing her best to soothe the pain the child must have felt. In a way though, she hated him, just as she had always hated herself. Her parents would be together now if it weren't for her constant temper tantrums.

Her mother had told her that they needed time, and that firstly, it was absolutely not her fault for their separation. Still, every time Rose heard this speech she was forced to go back to that night when the same protectiveness she had over her younger brother angered her into pushing her mother away from her, and in essence, away from her father.

Her father had told her all the same things, almost as if he and her mother had discussed everything beforehand. They were always on the same page, usually of a book that no one else could decipher, but the same page nonetheless. It was comforting to Rose too, how her father never stopped looking at her mother as if everything was alright. She liked to believe she had inherited that trait from him now as she sat with an arm around her brother's shoulders, eating cookies as they faked smiles.

The door downstairs flung open revealing a rain covered Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. Their voices were different, loud and irritated, if Rose was ever asked.

"Harry James Potter, you do not walk away from me, do you hear?" That was Ginny, Rose had to guess. Although her voice was lower than usual, it sounded like her, right down to the way she stomped her foot at her husband.

"Calm down, Gin. It's snowing. Excuse me for being cold, you frigid bi-"

"Oh, nice, reaaaaal nice, Harry. Dear god, what has gotten into you?"

"Me?" Harry stammered, stepping back. "ME? What about you? I can't even believe you'd ask Hermione that. I mean, how dare you even let that thought linger, Gin. It's Ron and Hermione. We're not Malfoy's…"

"Well I don't know what my brother is capable of. This whole separation makes no sense…"

"Who says? That's exactly what Hermione was talking about! Who are we to say what their separation is? We're not in their marriage. She's right. She has her family and we have ours and together we're one family. For fuck's sake, leave them be!"

Ginny stepped forward, softening a bit. "Why are you being like this?"

"No!" Harry pushed her away. "No! I fucking hate when you pull this sappy shit and you know it. Go back to being a bitch, Gin. Merlin only knows you're bloody fantastic at it!"

"UGH!" Ginny tapped her foot, causing Hugo to jump. He wasn't scared, not the way he was when he saw his parents. No, this was different. He looked to Rose, a similar look appearing across her face. If this was a fight, and they knew it had to have been, what were there parents always up to?

"Do not blame this on me, Ginny. We're going to talk about this, goddammit!"

"Did I blame you, Harry? Jesus Christ, you're so selfish!"

"I'm selfish?" He pointed to himself as if to make sure they were talking about the same person. "You're selfish, Ginny! All you care about is your mother thinking you're a good mom. And you know what, you are and she does! But there are more important things than that."

Ginny walked up to him, pushing a finger into his ribcage. "Enlighten me, Harry."

"Well for starters, we haven't shagged in almost two months."

"Har-"

He cut her off. "No! Let me finish! This isn't the same boy from Hogwarts telling you that he needed you while he was away at Auror camp, okay? You're my wife, and I think we're past all of that physical stuff, okay? But god forbid you even kiss me anymore. Ron and Hermione may be feisty but you know what he told me? He told me that they fuck at least once a day. And the only time they don't is when Hermione's on her period or he's away. And yet we're judging them? We're really pointing fingers here? At least he gets some!"

"You're disgusting." Ginny bit at her nails. "I'm not a piece of meat."

"No, you're my wife and I'd like to show you how much I love you. More than on anniversaries and when the kids are away…"

"I work Harry! And I'm tired, just like you are. Why is this my fault?"

"Because I'm fucking tired too, Gin! But nothing keeps me from wanting you, got it? My hand can only do so much…"

Ginny pushed him off of her. She wondered when she had even let him get so close. "Shut your mouth. And stop talking about my brother and my best friend. I really didn't need to know what they do, really."

"No, you do. You're always the first one to want normal, to fucking point it out as we walk up and down the street and you don't even know what normal is. You wanna know what normal is? It's what I'm sure Hermione and Ron are doing upstairs, okay? This," he gestured in between the two of them, "is not normal!"

"Oh, ew!" Ginny scoffed, turning her back to her husband. Then, she turned around, her hands stiff at her sides. "You wanna know why I want normal so badly, Harry? Because of you! I'm always doing everything for you! You didn't have the childhood you wanted so I always begged my mum if you could stay here over the summer. Then, I feel in love with you, so excuse me for feeling something! And you know what, I thought things would get better but you pushed me so far away and I hated myself for that but then you were up against Voldemort and all I could think was how I still wanted you to finally be normal, to finally have this life I always had. It made me sick to watch you all figure it out. So yes, I'm a pain in the ass and sometimes I'm a bitch but I only wanted what was best for you. I wanted these things because I thought that was what you wanted. A family, kids, the marriage, all of it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I was wrong…"

She was on the couch now, staring down at her hands. Harry sat across from her, resting gently on the coffee table so as not to break the thin glass covering. "Gin…"

"No, Harry! You're right. I just assumed you wanted those things. I didn't even ask…"

"Ginny…" He moved her hair out of her face, thumbing it behind her ear so he could see her green eyes. "I do want those things. I just...I want you too, you know?"

"I try really hard, Harry. But by the time I clean the house and get the kids off that goddamn muggle bus I'm so tired. I agreed to live in your world but you have to know it's not easy for me. I try so hard everyday but by the time you get home I'm so drained. I just want to sleep. I don't feel like myself sometimes…"

"Then let's move!" Harry's eyes lit up.

Ginny looked up at him from behind her tears. "What? Harry, the kids…"

"Well then after they all go away to school. But we can start looking for a place now...in this world." He pointed to the ground. "Your world."

"Harry, it's your world too."

"I know, but I want to do this for you."

Ginny beamed. "I love you. Even though I may not show it, I do, you know that, right?"

Harry stood up, bringing Ginny to her feet with him. He caressed her cheek with his hand. His thumb ran smooth circles over her ear. He kissed her, chastely at first, then slowly it turned into something more, causing a still observant Rose and Hugo to look away. "I love you too, Gin. Tonight, let me show you, okay?"

She only nodded, retreating back to snogging her husband.

On the steps, Rose stood up. Hugo soon joined her. He nodded, somehow knowing at the age of five what this all meant. "That was nuts," he whispered into Rose as the two began to ascend the stairs. "Where are mum and dad, anyway?"

Rose shook her head. She shrugged too, hoping Hugo would understand that she was just as confused and yet content as he was. "You know, Hugues, I don't think mum and dad were arguing before…"

Hugo looked down to the ground. "I know."

"And back in the kitchen, back awhile ago, I don't think they were arguing then either."

"I know that." He was still staring at the ground. "Rosie…"

"Yeah, Hugues?"

He looked up at her. His eyes were wide in only the way a child's can be. "I want to say sorry, to daddy and mummy...okay? I mean, do you think that's okay?"

Rose stuck out her hand, not needing to respond to her brother's question with a proper response. This was proper enough for both of them. She nodded, giving him all the reassurance he needed. "Me too, bud."

They began to ascend the staircase, their little legs taking much effort to get up each step. At the fourth floor, they were stopped, their grandmother stepping out of her own bedroom. She had both hands on her hips, looking down at her grandchildren with the biggest smile on her face. "Hello, babies!" She beamed, gathering the children into a hug. Now down at their level, she asked: "And where are we going?"

"To apologize to mum and dad." Rose spoke for the both of them. Hugo squeezed her hand in appreciation.

"Maybe you'll give it a few minutes, no?"

Hugo's face dropped. "Are they arguing?"

Molly shook her head, pressing a palm to her grandson's cheek. "Oh no, baby, quite the opposite actually."

"Good, can we see them then?"

Molly looked over her shoulder and up the last staircase of the house that led directly into Ron's room. She knew her children more than any of them would like to admit. This was no different than the summer nights leading up to Hermione's departure to Hogwart's for her last year while Ron readied himself for Auror training. As a mother, Molly ran on a clock that let her know exactly how long things like this took. "Okay, up you go," she said after pausing, making sure their time in particular had passed. "Be careful on those steps, you hear?" Both children nodded, pushing past their grandmother to go up the rest of the long spiral staircase.

At the door, Hermione heard little feet and hands to match, pulling at the doorknob. She didn't move, instead, she nuzzled deeper into Ron who was busy playing with her hair as he kissed her hairline. Soon, the door was open, the same little feet and hands coming at Ron ad Hermione, still naked in bed after their love-making. Ron pulled out of Hermione, pulling the comforter further up before handing Hermione her shirt from the ground. She quickly slid under the covers, pulling the material back over her head.

"Mama!" Hugo beamed, jumping up on the bed to join his parents. "It's not bedtime yet! Not even for me!" Hermione just blushed, sharing an embarrassed smile with her husband. Ron loved it all the same, laughing the entire situation off.

Rose stood at the edge of the bed where her father was. Ron picked up his daughter, gently throwing her onto the bed as she giggled heartily. Both children stared at their parents, unsure of what to make of the situation with their little minds. Their parents looked happy, much like they always did. Lately, however, they hadn't seen these people, only shells of who they used to be. It was nice, their smiles and the way they shared a few innocent glances. Nothing was lost on their children, not even as Ron kissed his wife's fingers.

"Rosie and Hugues, why don't you guys go grab mama's bag from downstairs and we can get in our pajamas, okay?"

"Are we going to have a slump-er party, mummy?"

Hermione smiled. She grabbed Hugo's face, placing a big wet kiss on his cheek. "Would you like that, Hugo babes?"

The youngest child nodded, running downstairs with his sister to retrieve the bag his mother always packed for them on their overnight stays. Actually, this bag seemed to come everywhere with them. Upon returning back upstairs, their parents were already back in their clothing from earlier that night. Hugo handed his mother the purple beaded bag. The edges of the material was frayed and slightly worn. The material wasn't as deep in color as it once was.

"Mum, can I do it?" Rose spoke up.

Ron looked to Hermione, both of them knowing the rules. Then, they looked back to their daughter, nodding. The words, "Accio jamjams" already leaving her mouth. Her pajamas floated up out of the bad, landing steadily in Rose's lap. Her eyes beamed the same way they had that night back in her bedroom when she retrieved the book for her brother.

Ron pulled his daughter onto his lap, kissing her head as Hermione smiled over at them. She knew nothing made her husband happier than having children as inclined to do magic as she was. "Hugues?"

"Yeah mum?"

"Do it, buddy," Ron offered. "You know the spell."

Hugo shrugged. "I've never done magic before."

Hermione pulled Hugo into her. She grabbed her little boy's hand. "Ready? We'll use my wand, okay?"

"But mummmmmm!"

"I'm not going to say anything, it's going to be all you, okay?"

He nodded. "Accio jamjams." Nothing. "Mum, I-" Then, slowly, a t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants floated up out of the bag. Hugo beamed, his usually wide eyes becoming even larger. "Mum! Dad! I did it! I did magic!" He stood up on the bed and jumped, up and down before collapsing onto the covers in an excited heap.

Rosie poked his side. "I told you they'd let you!"

Ron and Hermione shared a curious look before laughing, joining their children in the current tickle fight that was occurring on the bed. They needed a night like this, or rather plenty of nights like this, to recover from the mistakes made over the past few weeks. It was more than just a fight or an upset child that had pushed them to this point. It was the idea of growing complacent with the company you were keeping, the family and the home you had worked so hard to obtain.


	11. Chapter 11: Inside These Lines

A/N: Just to touch upon a few questions brought up in reviews: There is still more to this story because there's a main issue that these two have yet to touch upon. It may or may not be the same thing that caused their "argument" in the first scene. Also, Hermione is not going to get pregnant again although I'd love to see that. I'm contemplating writing a short story about that because I haven't seen it done often or well enough for me to be satisfied. I think that's it! As usual, keep reviewing! I love talking to you guys and hearing what you have to say.

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><p>It was like a migraine, but stronger. Beams of light caught themselves on his eyes, intensifying the numbing pain behind them. His eyelids felt heavy, and he closed them and opened them, before finally tightening and shutting for good, or at least for now. He felt it all, while not really feeling much of anything at all. He saw her, and he wanted her, to hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be okay. It was going to be okay, wasn't it?<p>

Harry looked down at Ron, a bewildered look on his face. He was running too fast, he thought. Harry hated himself for not being able to keep up and he hated Ron for always having to prove himself. Looking over at Molly and Arthur, Ginny curled into her father's side like the little girl she so often was, all he could do was look away. He felt the guilt, even if they didn't. He would take the blame, as he surely deserved to. If only he had run just a little bit quicker.

A hand brushed Harry's shoulder.

"Is Hermione on her way?"

It was Ginny. She kissed his neck, not caring that her parents were standing a mere foot away. He sighed into it, watching Ron's lifeless body on the hospital bed in St. Mungo's.

"I don't know. Didn't you call her?"

Ginny pulled her head off of Harry's shoulder, her eyes taking on a look he couldn't quite pinpoint. She wasn't hurt or angry, but she was feeling something in between. It was the look of shock, maybe a little bit of disappointment, as she registered what was happening.

"Harry.I didn't call her. I thought you…"

Harry laughed nervously, "Maybe the hospital called her. Or your parents…"

A healer came into the room, checking Ron's charts and the parchment inside of them before walking away. He said nothing, did nothing, other than glance at Ron then quickly shuffle off. He seemed busy, the way all of St. Mungo's seemed. It was loud in some areas, and deafeningly silent in others. Harry couldn't process any of it, as the day dwindled on with no word on Ron's condition. He was angry, wishing he was in the bed, hoping that that would make word travel faster.

"Harry, the hospital wouldn't know to call her. She's not on his chart anymore."

"What? They're not divorced."

"I know. But she gets written off from his chart if they're separated. It's like…"

"Magic?" Harry spoke up, almost willing himself to laugh.

Ginny just nodded, placing her head back on Harry's shoulder.

"What do we do? Floo her?" She picked up her head, staring directly at her husband now.

His face echoed her own as he planned and calculated a way around this.

"Is she even in the office today? Oh god, she's going to kill us…"

Harry shook his head, placing a frustrated hand to his sweaty forehead.

"Fuck...bloody fuck. I'm dead. I'm so dead, Gin."

"Okay, babe. We just need to call her. We're wasting time."

"You call her. I can't talk to her."

"Oh no. No no no no no…", Ginny spoke. "She'll murder me. She'll retract my godmother privileges. I mean, I'd kill me if I were in her position. Dear God, Harry, this is so fucked up."

"Don't swear, Gin."

"Sorry. Right…" She paused,"Fuck."

"Alright. You're right, we're wasting time."

He grabbed Ginny's hand for strength, wishing Hermione was here to do the same thing to Ron. Merlin only knows he needed it more. He'd always need it more.

"Come on."

The two walked out of Ron's private hospital room just as two healers and a half a dozen nurses walked in. Pushing past all of the chaos, they walked to the end of the hall.

"Ready?" Harry asked, only to elicit a quick nod from Ginny.

With a mind-numbing pop the two disappeared into a whirlwind. They appeared, minutes later, standing in the Ministry facing straight toward Hermione's office. They walked, pacing quickly down the hall, stopping only when they heard voices come from a conference room.

One of them, the most familiar of them all, was shouting, pounding her tiny fist into the wooden table to fully get her point across.

"It's not right and you know it!" She looked up, her brown eyes catching on her best friend's green.

"Harry!" She wanted to stand up for a reason she was unaware of. "Gin! What are you guys doing here?" Her voice was uneasy as she gave in, bringing her body up onto steady feet. Everyone at the table stared, somehow getting it before Hermione had managed to. "What's going on, guys?"

"Ron, he…" Harry managed.

"Harry Potter, what's going on? You're scaring me."

"It's pretty bad, Hermione. He's not breathing on his own and they don't know-"

A choked sob was hidden behind Hermione's palm as she covered her mouth. More came, her entire body wracked with a fear she hadn't felt in a long time. She shook from her very core, unsure of whether to scream or continue to cry. She settled with the latter, her mind suddenly putting the pieces together. She thought of him, then Hugo and Rose, and whether or not they knew. She hoped the answer was 'no' just like she hoped everything would be alright. It was going to be alright, wasn't it?

They were at the hospital minutes later, Hermione taking off down the hallway in a dead sprint. She had apparated without them, disappearing from the conference room before she even had time to explain to her coworkers where she was going. They knew, just as they always did with her and Ron. Her family was the most important thing in her life, with her job always taking a backseat. Molly, and even Ginny once worried that it would be the other way around and were surprised, and slightly mad at themselves for ever doubting that Hermione would be just as good of a wife and a mother as she was in school and at the Ministry.

Hermione's heels didn't slow her down as she pushed past a healer, finding Ron's room out of habit. They always put Aurors away from everyone else, and surprisingly, Ron was the only one in his unit today. She cursed herself for wondering why nobody else was hurt and yet she was mad that he was alone. Did no one else help him and were hurt because of it? She wondered why no one else's wife was running to find their husband in hopes that he would recover. He had to, she thought, tears stills streaming down her freckled face.

Molly and Arthur saw her coming, as did the healers they were talking to. She paid them no mind, instantly going to his bed to kiss his face and hold his hand. They had been here so many times and yet Hermione didn't know exactly where she was. At best, she was lost without him.

"Ron...Ron, I need you to wake up, okay? I need you to talk to me. I need you here right now, okay?" A deep sob bubbled it's way back down her throat. It felt like swallowing a knife, the pressure all too much to bear. "Okay?"

Of course he said nothing, did nothing. He didn't move, nor did he speak. He was stagnant, like the stale hospital air floating in and around them. Hermione didn't waiver. She did her best to keep him comfortable, whatever that was. If anyone knew what Ron needed, it was Hermione, even in this state, with so much to lose. First, she moved his hair out of his face. Then, she unbuttoned the top button of his nursing gown, knowing he hated the way buttons always felt so constraining around his thick neck. She asked one of the nurses for a washcloth, using the material, softened by cool water, to press at his heated forehead. He moved a bit, causing Hermione to hold her breath. Then, nothing, everything back to the way it was. She swallowed, hoping to find something other than the doubts that were insisting on crawling up her throat. She found nothing, instead greeting them like an old friend.

After Molly and Arthur left, she was on the bed with him, nestling her head into his neck. Still, he was without movement. It did nothing to deter Hermione; she vowed to treat him as if he was the most alive he had ever been. To her he was, because he eventually would be. He had to be, she told herself.

"'Mione, we're going to go…" Harry touched his best friend's back, trying his best not to rouse her. She didn't move, she just nodded her head. She was laying with Ron as if he was awake with her. In her world, somewhere far away from here, from this place, he was more awake than she, and his breathing was what calmed her and kept her begging for more.

"The kids are going to stay with us tonight. They asked if they could, I hope that's okay…"

Another nod. Harry was about to cry. He could say with confidence he had never seen her like this before.

"And Hermione?"

It was Ginny now. She sounded sincere, of course making the emotion her own. There was anger there too, something Hermione would never truly comprehend.

"Um, we're sorry...we're sorry for the other night. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I'm jealous…" She stopped talking, Hermione imagining Harry pressing a worried hand to her shaking arms, crossed perfectly over her body just as her mother had stood hours earlier.

"Maybe I always have been. And I can't understand it but we love you guys. I mean that. And he's going to be okay...okay?"

A silence drifted into the hospital room. Hermione began to echo her husband's body, motionless and quiet. She drifted in and out of sleep, only waking up to fix Ron's pillows or cry tears she wasn't even sure she had left. She did though, and they fell with earnest. They beckoned to be paid attention to, just as Hermione so desperately begged for the same thing from Ron.

"Wake up, baby. I need you. Please…"

She must have fallen asleep, because she was forced to open her eyes as she felt movement beneath her. Was she crushing him? She quickly sat up, her body falling, or rather being pulled, back down to the mattress.

"Shhhh…" Ron whispered, her ear right next to his mouth as he wrapped his naked arm around his wife's small frame. "I don't want them to know I'm up yet. You're...you're here."

Hermione nodded, tears falling as she kissed Ron's nose. "You're here."

"I've been here this entire time, love."

Hermione shook her head. "No, not with me Ron. I was so scared-"

He placed a shaky finger to her dry lips. Tears drenched her cheeks and he kissed them away, with weak fervor.

"I'm here baby, I'm here."

He swallowed, his throat dry and already swollen from the little talking he had done since waking up. Hermione noticed, grabbing the cup of water she had placed on his bedside table. He sipped, with her help, slowly easing the liquid down his throat.

"I could hear you," he whispered as he pulled the pink cup away from his lips. "I love you too...forty nine times."

"You counted?"

"I had to. I had nothing else to do. I wanted to say it back, 'Mione. You scared me, with the way you were talking. Are you okay?"

Hermione sat back down, resting up higher on the bed than her husband. She looked down on him, one hand holding his water out for him while the other rested above his head.

"Shouldn't that be my question? Are you okay? You look better than you did an hour ago...the potions must really be working."

"What did they give me?"

"Something to help stabilize your breathing, and some skelegrow too."

"Skelegrow?"

"You have a huge gash right across your chest. I wanted to look but the healers were hesitant. I think I've annoyed them…"

Ron nodded, he rubbed at the back of her neck, pulling her forehead down to his lips. She smiled, unsure of how long this would last. She cursed herself for enjoying it so much, wondering if he'd be back in a comatose state soon.

A healer walked in, smiling down at the couple as they detached at the lips.

"Mr. Weasley? Mrs…"

"Weasley. It's Weasley," she stammered.

"Right, of course," she spoke. She opened Ron's chart. "Well it seems the sedative we've put you on has worn off and just in time because it appears your breathing has steadied as well. You're actually breathing on your own right now, which is, really really remarkable."

Ron looked to Hermione, a smile on both of their faces. He pressed his lips into the back of her hand as she held onto him. It pained him, both to see her like this and to move his arm in such a way. He forgot about the latter as the former felt so good.

"When can I go home?"

The healer smiled. "Not so fast, unfortunately. It's going to be at least another week, I believe."

"It can't be any sooner? I have plans…" Hermione pressed a hand to her husband's warm forehead. She did her best to calm him down, to let him know it was okay. Still, her stomach twirled, thanking Merlin that he remembered. They were supposed to take the kids to see schools soon.

"And we have plans for you, Mr. Weasley. We're doing the best we can but you've been hurt pretty badly. I'm sorry, but it's best if you stay here until you've made a full recovery."

Ron looked to Hermione for support. Seeing nothing but her own weary smile, he smiled at the healer.

"Of course, thank...thank you," he managed.

Then she was gone, her green uniform trailing behind her as she walked out of his room and then out of the subsequent unit in which he was staying. Ron stared, watching her go, as Hermione nestled back into him, her body practically on top of his as she got used to the heat he was now generating.

He looked at her, a curious smile playing itself across his features.

"Why is it that I always want to snog you when I can't?"

"Oh yeah?" A cheeky grin spread onto Hermione's face. She kissed his neck, right above her favorite freckle.

"When's the last time we had a proper snog? And just a snog…"

She was pointing now, the nail of her pointer finger lightly scraping the tip of Ron's nose.

Ron wanted to laugh, and he knew he would have, had the pain in his chest not been so prominent.

"Not for awhile, I guess. It's hard with kids. Either they walk in before we can get started or you're half naked before I can even finish snogging you...properly."

Hermione laughed, suddenly feeling guilty that she was able to. It dissipated as Ron smiled, beaming over at her, their faces just mere inches apart.

"Oh, this is my fault? You're right, shagging is always my idea."

"No, not really. But I guess that's being married, right? It was one thing to snog you senseless over summers at the Burrow when we were dating, but then we were engaged and we got to the important stuff-"

Hermione cut him off. "Of course shagging you is so important."

Ron got serious. He nipped at her lips, tasting her for longer than either was aware was possible.

"For me it is. I need you close to me like this."

"Just like this?"

Ron kissed her again. He was breathless, for reasons she was untouched by.

"Take off your shirt," he whispered, allowing his lips to move against her own as he spoke.

Hermione giggled. "Later," she whispered back, sending them both laughing.

A few moments later, she settled back into him, her chest on his, watching as he rose and fell beneath her. Her eyes affixed on the other side of the room, Hermione paid attention to the lines Ron's chest drew on the wall for her. The striped wallpaper did nothing to help this, causing her to dizzy, but in the best way. She was right where she needed to be.

"How are the kids?"

Hermione nodded, as if saying everything she needed to, as her cheek caressed his hospital gown. "Hugo got in trouble at school. Some boys were making fun of Rosie on the bus, and he apparently knocked their books down to the ground…"

"Oh did he?"

Hermione nodded. "His hair crackles. Like mine...do you remember?"

Ron smiled. How could he forget? Sometimes he saw it, those little sparks appearing on the ends of her hair after she yelled at him for not properly putting the dishes away or after a Sunday afternoon session of lovemaking.

"'Atta boy!"

"And Rosie's actually been pretty tame. I taught her another spell."

"Oh yeah? Which one's that?"

"Reparo."

"What did she break?"

"Hugo's favorite toy. So I taught her how to put it back together."

"Is she as good as her mother at these spells?"

Hermione looked up to Ron, her mouth dropped open slightly.

"She's even better. She's fantastic, Ron. It's because she's half-blood...it has to be."

"Hermione, stop, okay? She'd be just as good if she was Muggle born. You were," he reminded, nudging her with his elbow.

His wife smiled. "I wish...nevermind." She retreated, back to their previous conversation with it's fleeting thoughts.

Ron tried to sit up straighter. "No, what?"

"I wish...I wish they could see us like this. Rosie and Hughues asked me how I love you and I couldn't explain it. I just do. You know, I've written papers and dissertations on magic and this world that I wasn't brought up in and yet I've practically loved you my entire life and I can't explain that to our children."

"Then let's show them."

"What?" She looked up at her husband, confused, but sure all the same.

"Let's bring them to Hogwart's. And other schools, if that's what they want. If that's what you want. It's about time they learned, right? That's not something we have to keep from them…"

Hermione kissed Ron. This time she was left breathless too, as her toes curled. Normally, she'd reposition herself on top of him, grinding her hips so diligently into his. Instead, she resorted back to her other position, her cheek resting on his chest as the two breathed in time with one another.


	12. Chapter 12: King and Lionheart

Arriving at Grimmauld Place, Hermione apparated herself and a groggy Ron up the stairs, thinking it was better that way, rather than watching his weak limbs flail around just to get up the steps. He was stronger than he had been a week ago, but the potions were wearing off more quickly now and the herbs he was on would never be enough to calm his breathing to the point of comfort.

At the top of the stairs, Hermione walked to Lily's room and popped her head into see both her niece and her daughter lying on sleeping bags near the fire. A similar situation was occurring in James' room, with all the boys sprawled out in ridiculous positions near the radio.

"Ron, why you insisted on being let out so late is beyond me." Hermione whispered, shutting the door behind her.

She meandered down the hall, feeling Ron's wandering hands guide her away from the children to his own room. Hermione wondered, briefly, who was helping who. He had made almost a full recovery and yet he was complaining about pain from when they first apparated upstairs. Now, he was stronger, as if a second wind had hit him, kissing his cheeks as his hands roamed over his wife's backside.

"They said I could go, didn't they?"

"Yes, but I'm helping you down the hallway. You're weak."

"I'm not weak. You're just...pushy."

"Yeah yeah...I'll show you pushy."

"Please?" Ron wanted to stick out his bottom lip and pout. Hermione wanted to kiss it away, to taste his tongue upon hers as she pushed him up against the doorjamb of Harry and Ginny's master bedroom. Soon, she was able to think better of it.

"Stop that, Ronald. We shouldn't have even made love the other night. It's not right. We're supposed to be taking this time to figure this all out." They were in his room at Grimmauld Place now. Or maybe it was still their room as it always had been. She remembered winter nights spent here, curled up naked by the fire with only a plaid fleece blanket to cover them up.

"First off, don't call me Ronald because I only know it means you want me as much as I want you. Second, you're in luck, because the healers said I can't have sex anyway, and lastly, we did figure it out. We figured it out three times, if I remember correctly."

"Ronnnn!" she hissed. "Shh! The kids are sleeping."

"Maybe you should take your own advice, 'Mione. You're the one shouting."

"Because you're talking about things we shouldn't be talking about."

"What? Shagging? I can't talk to my beautifully sexy wife about how much I want to fuck her senseless? About how much I want to throw her up against the wall and just take her from behind? That's not allowed?"

"NO Ron! It's not allowed. Stop it, I'm serious! I feel like I'm taking care of you after one of your Firewhiskey nights during Auror training…"

Her mind fluttered backward, thinking of those nights when she would have to apparate a drunken Ron back to the Burrow after a rough mission left him nearly emotionless. He'd end the night with a bottle of Firewhiskey, each member of his unit doing the same. Then, they'd all go home alone, but an engaged Ron would call Hermione, needing her close before he ended the night. Once, she told him 'no'. That was the first night, and never again would that word ever leave her lips. With him, it was always 'yes', then she'd apparate them home, and strip him of his clothes before doing the same to her tired body. He didn't mind, not even in the stupor he so often found himself in, and when he'd wake up in the morning, she'd still be there, looking at him as if he could do no wrong, even after experiencing a night with him that proved the opposite.

He was on the bed now. He could walk by himself, but only barely. His knees were strong though, and he used them to crawl up toward the headboard. Quickly, he rid himself of the T-shirt he was wearing; the one Hermione had brought him to change into at the hospital. He was in trousers, his trainers kicked to the ground as well, and Hermione couldn't help but to stare.

She bit her lip, hoping it would draw blood and the pain would pull her out of this reverie. Hermione did want Ron, just as she did all of those nights back at the Burrow. This wasn't something a separation could take away and he was right, they had figured everything out. Yet here they were, in the middle of the smallest of rows, indecisive about where to go next.

"Move over."

Hermione crossed her arms over her body, resting both hands at the hem of her T-shirt. Hastily, she pulled the material up and over her head. Just like him, she was left in a simple pair of khaki trousers and Ron's favorite bra of hers, the coral one without the straps. He didn't move, his eyes affixed on the curve of her stomach as her fingers undid the buttons and zipper of her khakis. Once undone, she quickly pushed the material to her feet, effortlessly stepping out of them before she climbed over her husband. She crossed her arms over her chest, her body conforming to the shape of the unmade bed behind her. She wanted to protest, and comment on how the least Ron could do would be to make his bed when acting as the guest in someone else's home. But this wasn't Harry's room, because it never had been. If it were up to Ron, he'd be claiming it as his own, his and Hermione's, all over again.

A piercing look shot Hermione in the heart as Ron stared at her. His arms were crossed over his chest just as hers were, but they were beginning to soften. One rested on his stomach while the other slowly and deliberately, laced through Hermione's hair, resting on her cheek thumbing at her ear. She closed her eyes, kissing the side of her palm without really moving. She didn't want him to win, but knew that the outcome might be the very same regardless of her own behavior.

Just like those nights back at the Burrow, Ron had a certain sex appeal to him when he was brash and stubborn. Every part of him was hers, just the way she had always wanted. It wasn't her job to explain to the world all they were and all they wanted to be. Nobody deserved to know, yet she wanted everyone to understand, just how much she loved this man. People so often credited her for making him the man he was. What she wished was that they saw she was the woman she had grown to be because of him as well. Their relationship was a swinging door, opening and closing only to let them both in.

"What are you doing?" His lips were mere inches away from hers. He breathed, drying her smile. She softened into his touch, wanting so badly to reciprocate what he was feeling and give it back to him over and over again.

"Ron…"

"What do you want Hermione?"

She nodded, swallowing hard.

"You. I want you."

"Do you mean that?" His hand stayed on the side of her face, caressing her soft skin as her hands moved up to do the same on his skin. Starting, her fingertips caressed his pecs, then moved to his collarbone, then up his neck to his cheeks. Resting her hands there, Hermione stared, her eyes darting from Ron's lips to his eyes.

Hermione could not muster anything but to shake her head 'yes'. Ron mirrored her action, hesitantly seizing her lips. All worries wiped themselves away as the kiss deepened. Hermione finally received what she had wanted since they arrived home: her husband's tongue upon her own, tasting her.

"Wait, wait wait!" Her hands were off of him now, as if she was throwing her arms up in surrender. Ironically, her body was doing the exact opposite. "We can't do this."

"Yes we can, I'll be fine."

"No, Ron. I'm not having you lay in a hospital bed for another week because of me. I can't do it, okay?"

Ron scooted closer to her and thumbed away a tear.

"'Mione, what's wrong love? I'm here. I'm fine. Atrox is dead. Nobody's going to hurt me or you or the kids, okay?"

"We're never safe, Ron!"

"Hermione, please listen to me, okay? We are safe. You're here, I'm here. Rosie and Hugo are sleeping right down the hall. You're in a house with two Aurors. How can you not feel safe?" He paused, "Don't I make you feel safe?"

She nodded, more quickly than he had hoped, really. "Always...I mean, of course." She wished, just as he did, for words that meant more. Instead, she found herself constantly coming up short, never quite living up to expectations she wasn't even aware were set for her.

Ron looked away, something that only caused the knot in Hermione's stomach to tighten, as if being pulled on from two separate directions. She smiled, using her thumb and forefinger to bring his chin down to hers. Her gentle touch sent him reeling, their lips colliding with a gentle force he hadn't experienced in quite some time, not even the other night at the Burrow.

"Mmm...don't tease."

Hermione shook her head. "I miss sneaking around with you. I miss exploring your body. I don't know. I feel like we're old and boring sometimes. I miss being kids."

"Kids who have sex?"

She nodded, her arm wrapped around Ron's shoulders as he suddenly covered her body with his own. "Hot." A kiss. "Passionate." Another kiss. "Consensual." Then another. "Mind-blowing?" One more. It tasted like a question on his already swollen lips. "Sex."

"We were never kids, 'Mione."

"I know. Sometimes I wonder if we'd be different now if we were different then. You know, if we were normal. Without all of the traveling and the war, would our love mean this much? I mean as much as we make it mean. What if you were just a boy and I was just a girl, what then?"

"Then I suspect there'd be just as much love, just in different doses, don'cha think?", Ron asked. Hermione just bit her lip. Her breasts threatened to spill out of the cups of her low cut bra. Ron would have been lying if he said he didn't notice, but he also noticed his wife and the look of ponder written on her face. "We're meant to be, please tell me you believe that."

"Every day."

"Then what is it? Sure, we missed out on finishing school together, and we had those awkward years where I was away at training and you were still living with my parents, but don't you think all of that made us who we are? Right here? In our bed?"

"This isn't our bed, Ronald. Our bed is-" He kissed her, killing her words.

"It's always been our bed. Every place that I've ever made love to you in has been ours. Don't you get that? It only has to be boring and mundane if we let it."

Hermione looked up to her husband. She pushed his hair off his forehead, loving the feeling of her fingertips scraping along his skin just as much as he did. "You're sweet, Ronald. I mean that. How did I ever get so lucky?"

"I ask myself the same thing every day, love."

"And the answer?"

"We both got lucky. We both deserve each other. We both got exactly what we wanted and yeah, life tried to take that away some times but you're here now and I'm here now and nothing's going to change that."

Hermione nodded. She was done with words, her lips instead craving something of a different variety. She wanted to taste him, to feel his lips on her collarbone as she fisted his hair. He obliged, the way he always did. Her fingers daintily ran across the healing scar on his chest. He cooed into her mouth, feeling the heat of her fingers soothe the burning of his once open wound. Soon, it was mollified, just as his lips left Hermione's and began traveling further down her body. She smiled, her fingers not fisting in his hair as she imagined, but instead guiding his face and his lips toward her navel.

Momentarily, her mind unclouded, Hermione noticed how agile he suddenly was when put in this state. He was moving quickly, and then all of a sudden, he would stop, playing with her tummy, lapping at the concave area of her bellybutton before kissing away the saliva he left behind. She was wet, all of her body suddenly heating up. She pressed an unsteady hand lightly to her forehead, feeling the beads of sweat there.

Soon, as if no time had passed at all, he was down between her legs, kissing at the hem of her knickers. Hermione dropped her head back, quickly closing her legs at the sensation. She was no longer the wife and mother; suddenly she was a young girl she had passed over a long time ago. This particular girl, with her frizzy hair and disproportionate teeth was still holding onto a childhood and teenage years Hermione had long since given up. She was here though, clamping her legs shut around Ron's head. Hermione wondered, biting her lip as she looked down at Ron, if he was seeing a similar boy, one who matched this teenage girl so perfectly. Was he as scared as she was? Would they meet in the middle, awkwardly fumbling toward something they both had been searching for so long?

"What's wrong, now?" He was pouting slightly. His lips turned down, almost as if to frown, or to keep from kissing the silly grin off his wife's face.

"Why is it fair that you can do this and I can't reciprocate? It's not. We'll just wait until you're better…"

"My-oh-knee..." He drew out her name making it seem like the most wonderful thing in the world. Right now she was exactly that to him. She was wonderful and beautiful and all the things she imagined she would have wanted to feel as a teenager, had she ever actually been given the chance to be one.

"You took care of me in the hospital for almost two weeks. The least I can do is make you feel good."

She ran a shaky hand up the length of his arm, resting it finally on his bare shoulder.

"You are making me feel good. You're here, Ron. You're not sleeping or in pain, you're just here. I can't tell you how good that makes me feel...ooh!"

She dropped her head back. At first she wasn't aware of his fingers inside her knickers but she felt them now, running up and down the length of her folds with volition.

"Ron." Her eyes caught on his now. She just nodded, knowing that he was offering something beyond what he wanted, although he wanted it so. Ron saw in her eyes how much she needed this; they hadn't done this in almost a month.

Ron latched his thumbs beneath the material of Hermione's knickers. She watched him pull the material down. Near her toes, she kicked them off, causing Ron to chuckle.

"Slow down, we have all night, baby."

"Ronn...please!"

"Will you let me enjoy this?"

"I thought I was the one being taken care of…"

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy it as much as I hope you do."

Hermione rested her head back. She gave up on watching her husband, especially when she knew that the sensations were much more thrilling when she couldn't see them coming.

"Oooh!" She pushed her head further into the pillow as she arched her hips toward his mouth.

"Ron!" she cried out. "Jesus!"

Ron removed his mouth from her clit. He smiled at her, his face beaming.

"Too much?"Without hesitation, she shook her head.

Ron returned, this time placing his thumb to her sensitive skin, his lips kissing down her folds before allowing his tongue to dart in and out of her. He could tell she was enjoying it, her mouth dropped open as she palmed her own nipples through the material of her bra. He wondered, if only for a moment, why he hadn't insisted she take it off. His wife's perky breasts were quite possibly his favorite thing, especially from this angle, as he inserted one, then four fingers inside of her. She cooed, but only slightly. Hermione was already spent, the sensations of Ron teasing at her core all too much. Ron had this incredible talent to guide Hermione to the edge without fully pushing her off. He wanted her orgasms to be as powerful as his own were, especially when his wife gave the most ridiculous of blow jobs. Jokingly, it was a competition, one that both were all too eager to participate in.

"Mione, tell me when you're ready, beautiful."

"No." She fisted at the blue linens beneath her bum. She looked content, knowing her indignant expression was turning him on. "No," she repeated.

Ron looked up at her, his mouth soothing her sensitive nub. He was almost positive that the mere hot air from his ragged breathing would set her off.

"Fine…" he breathed in sharply. "Come for me, 'Mione. Let me make you feel good."

She was still stubborn, but his mere request was exactly what she wanted to hear. As she climaxed, Ron continued to pump four fingers into her center while his mouth remained on her clit. This was his favorite position, and the best view he'd ever have of her. He learned when he was nineteen, the first time Hermione was able to get over herself and let her boyfriend pleasure her, that she'd never get sick of seeing him like this. Ron noticed the same thing, his nose buried deep within her, tickling her insides. It made them both laugh, ending in one of the most powerful orgasms Hermione had ever had.

She couldn't help but to remember that night, as her current orgasm coursed through her. She rolled her head over to the side, staring at the space of emptiness there. Ron lapped at her center with his tongue, receiving one last jolt before her climax subsided, her hips once again meeting the bed below. Hermione needed to stare at him, to kiss him, only to taste herself on his lips. It didn't irk her the way it did back then. Nothing seemed to. Ron allowed her to be carefree, and intimate in a way she never thought was possible.

"Thank you," she whispered. A palm was placed to his cheek, her fingernails scratching at his stubble.

"You're amazing, you are," she spoke, hoping the words would sound familiar to him.

He only smiled, kissing the inside of her palm before placing her hand on his heart. Hermione stopped him. Instead, she sat forward, unclasping her bra so that she was now completely starkers in their old bedroom. Ron only smiled.

"You want some help? I know how weak you are right now…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing. She made quick work of undoing his belt and pulling his trousers down, leaving them in a clump on the carpet below. She ignored them as they lay there, instead crawling back over her husband. Instantly, he spooned her, his cool hands resting perfectly on her naked tummy. They didn't question his briefs, the only barrier left between the two of them. They needed it, the boundary, the line, to keep them centered. It was a reminder of the past two weeks; the coma, the waking up, and then all the subsequent actions that followed just as assertively. Even with the wall to separate them, Hermione felt him hard against her backside. She craved him, even going as far to wiggle her bum into his rock-hard member. Still, he didn't waiver. Instead, he kissed her shoulder-blade, wishing his lips were elsewhere.

~!~

Hugo took the steps one at a time. He had his favorite bear nestled under one arm while the other did its best to reach up to the bannister. It was times like these he cherished, even at five, enjoying when nobody was around to help him with tasks he knew he was all too capable of. He was a Weasley, strong-willed and sloppy, but he was also his mother's son: independent and deliberate. As he reached the bottom, he ran off toward a destination not yet marked in his mind. He turned down the long corridor leading into the kitchen. He turned at the last minute, dodging the dining room with his little feet slapping against the cool hardwood walkway as he approached the pantry. Down the steps, he ran headlong into his father, grabbing onto the girth of his leg.

"DADDDDDY!"

Ron looked down, setting the spatula to flip the pancakes on their own while he picked up his son and set him on the long kitchen table. He wondered if Ginny would walk in and scold him for such behavior. No doubt, he'd remind her that this was his place of residence before it was hers, and no doubt she'd roll her eyes and grab Hugo off the table before pouring herself a cup of tea.

"Hi bud." He ruffled his bright red hair, kissing his forehead. "How did you sleep, Hugues?"

"Good! James and Sirius were up late but I went to bed early because Uncle Harry kept saying you were going to be home today and here you are Dad! You're in the kitchen!"

Ron chuckled, his son's excitement spreading throughout the otherwise dim room. "I am. Do you want some pancakes?"

"I'unno!" Hugo shrugged, placing his bear to sit on his lap. "Where's mama?"

"Upstairs sleeping."

"Did you guys have a slump-er party too?" The child's eyes widened, thinking of his own night consisting of stories of magic and flannel sleeping bags. His was already rolled up and placed by the door in James' room, ready to be put in the closet down the hall before he left for the night.

"Yeah, we did."

"Are you guys friends again?"

Ron nodded, smiling bigger than he thought was possible. "Your mom and I have always been friends, buddy. She's my best friend, actually. Just like your Uncle Harry. Only I love your mom much, much more than that."

"More than Uncle Harry? What about Aunt Ginny?"

"Much, much more than both of them combined. It's a different kind of love, bud. It's like…"

"Magic?" He asked. His eyes widened again, but in a different way. He wasn't amazed, or happy, but puzzled by the same word he had propositioned. "Rosie says she's in love with a boy at school and it's like magic. It takes awhile to get it right but when you do it's the best thing. Is that what love's like, daddy?"

"Yeah, kind of bud." Ron didn't mean to sound so harsh, his mind currently affixed to the idea of his daughter being in love. She was seven, he reminded himself, quickly resorting back to the topic at hand.

"You know how you felt when you first tried the 'accio' spell?" Hugo nodded with hyper fervor.

"Love is kind of like doing your first spell. It's hard at first. It doesn't happen right away. But when it does it's real...it's...it's magic, I guess. It's the most beautiful thing in the world."

Hugo scrunched his nose, his eyes suddenly growing small as his mouth turned inward.

"You think magic is boo-tee-ful?"

"I think magic can do some pretty awesome things, don't you?" Hugo shook his head, signaling a simple 'yes'. "I think love can too."

Ron sipped at the tea he had poured for himself earlier.

"Why do you love mum, daddy?"

"Well," he started. Almost all of the pancakes were on the platter now. He placed the last one on top of the stack before sliding the glass plate across the table. Thinking twice, he set a warming charm, wondering when his usually punctual wife would ever get out of bed. Ron sat on the bench in front of the table. Hugo climbed onto his lap, waiting like a child ready for a bedtime story. "Your mum is the most wonderful person I've ever met. Let's see, she's pretty and kind and caring and smart. She gave me you and Rosie. She works hard and gets what she wants. I knew early on I had to make her mine…"

"Daddy." Hugo placed his small hand to his father's cheek. "You should tell Rosie that. She may get magic but I don't think she gets this whole love thing."

"Oh yeah? And what about you?"

"I think I get love more than I get magic."

"You wanna know what I think?" Hugo beamed, smiling in approval. "I think someday you'll be very good at both. You're a Weasley, Hugues, it's in your blood."

"What about mama?"

"She's a Weasley too, and don't you forget it." He tapped his son's nose, causing the boy to squeal. He clapped his hands together. Ron stood up, placing a restless Hugo back down on the bench. In front of him, he placed a small plate with one pancake on it. Ron also set down the butter and the syrup, his son skipping both condiments as he ripped at the warm dough with his tiny fingers. "Here, bud." A knife and a fork came next. "You want me to cut those up? Your mum's not going to be too happy if she sees you eating like that."

Hugo shook his head, stuffing the spongy substance down his throat.

"So good, daddy!"

Ron just chuckled. "Okay, well hurry up. She should be down soon." As if he called her name, Hermione appeared at the door in her husband's button up shirt and a pair of grey cotton shorts.

"Told you…" Ron whispered.

"Mummmyyyyy!" Hugo stood up on the bench, running toward his mother. "Daddy made me pancakes, mummy!" He stuck his sticky hands out in front of him as proof. "You want some?"

"Sure, buddy. That sounds lovely. You want to sit down for me now?" Hugo scurried back down the bench, plopping his bum back down onto the wood below. He followed his mother's wishes, not even questioning her state of mind. She cherished his age and the way he was indifferent to her commands, instead taking them as little tasks to complete and check off the list in his mind.

Hermione walked to her husband, smiling seductively as she did so. Ron enjoyed the view of his wife moving toward him in his own shirt. He could even make out the outline of her curves through the starched fabric.

"Hi baby," she whispered, resting on his shoulder as she kissed at his cheek.

"Mm...Hi." He settled on the word, deciding the others he had originally chosen were inappropriate. Hugo sat still at the table, tearing the rest of his pancake into bits.

"Hugues, you want some utensils there, bud?" He shook his head, showing his mum his hands over his head. They were proof for everything this morning, apparently.

Ron nudged into Hermione, stirring another batch of pancake batter.

"I already tried that. He was pretty persistent with his fingers…"

"Hmm, sounds like his father!" Hermione reached over Ron's shoulder and stuck her finger in the batter. Once she pulled it out, her now slick finger was in her mouth, as she tasted the batter her husband was concocting.

"Mmm…", she purposefully moaned into his ear, letting both of her folded arms rest on his shoulders as she stood on tiptoes trying to see what he was doing from her much shorter state.

"Wow, 'Mione, really?" His wife has just dipped another finger into the batter, quickly licking at her skin again. Not only was she dirtying up the mix, but she was turning her husband on with each lick and suck to her digit.

"Stop…" he warned.

She reached around her husband, rubbing his empty stomach with her free hand. She wanted to move lower, to feel him in different places, but now as the table was almost full, containing both Weasley and Potter children, she thought better of her actions.

Once upon a time, Hermione would never be this brave. Being a wife and a mother had not only made her more careful about the person she portrayed to the world but also the woman she was privately. Insistently, she was a much different woman in the office compared to the woman she was at home. Ron liked to think they were both characteristically Hermione. She was the woman he knew she would always be. Hermione loved him all the more for this; he was the man that never doubted her.

"Oh, ew, you two!" Ginny poked Ron's side, causing him and Hermione to part. "Can we not in the kitchen please? I don't know how you parent your children but I prefer mine not to see Harry and I go at it in the kitchen…"

"Well that's because you're pod people, Gin. Pod people don't have sex in the kitchen."

She swatted at her brother's backside with the Daily Prophet she grabbed off the counter.

"You know what?" It was something he'd never get a response to. Ginny had no comeback, nor did she want to find one. Mostly, she feared what Hermione would say if she conjured up even the smallest string of words. Hermione had a way of being harsh and honest, even before she was a member of the family. Now that she was a Weasley her words left her mouth like knives traveling quickly, searching for the nearest deserving target.

It ended up being a split table, but only barely. Harry and Ginny sat in the middle with Ron and Hermione across the table from them. Their respective children sat on either side of the parents, playing with pancakes, cluttering the table with syrup and crumbs as a bowl of fruit salad was passed from one end of the table to the other.

Hermione whispered something into Ron's ear, causing him to turn his attention toward their children where a similar situation occurred. Hugo was busily tapping at his sister's shoulder. Rosie remained with her nose hidden away behind her current read. She only looked up to hush her brother's voice. He was whispering to her, pointing at their parents as he did so. Still, Rosie paid no attention, instead thinking of the two characters in her book and the detailed relationship they shared. Even at seven, she found it best when simple things were turned complicated, and likewise, more interesting.

"Hugo, stop poking me!" Then, it happened. Her hair sparked. Harry saw it, then Ginny. James heard it, watching as his cousins hair didn't catch flame but returned to its naturally frizzy state, no damage having been done.

"Stop it! I see them, alright?" Rosie yelled.

Not thinking of her family, she stood up and walked away, throwing her book on the table. It landed with a loud thud as she walked away, out the pantry and down the hall toward the front door.

"Rose Minerva Weasley, please stop running!"

Still upset and clearly shaken sat on the last step of the stairs. With her head in her hands, she pouted, tears streaming down her porcelain skin. Droplets, like rain, painted over her freckles, making them even more clear to the world. The room was spinning when all she wanted was for everything to slow down.

"Go away!"

Ron kneeled in front of his daughter.

"Hugo's not with us. What's wrong, Rosie?"

"Don't touch me!" Ron retracted his hand from her shoulder while Hermione sat next to their daughter on the steps.

"Rosie, baby, what's wrong, love?" Hermione draped a loving arm around her daughter's shoulders, pulling her shaking form into her body. Rosie accepted the affection, crying willingly into the shirt her mother was wearing. Feeling it scratch against her now wet cheeks, most likely chafing the skin there, Rosie knew it was her father's shirt. What she'd never understand is why her mother always insisted on wearing boys clothing, her father's clothing, to be more specific.

"I know you guys love each other, okay? I know it! I get it! I see it now! And you're still not together and it's all my fault!"

Ron rubbed at his daughter's cheeks with the bottom of his T-shirt. She wanted to smile, loving the tickle of the cotton on her eyelids, but instead, she continued to cry. "Rosie, your mom and I-" He looked to Hermione, a sullen expression spreading itself across his features. He was at a loss for words, unsure of what to tell their daughter. Their separation had been initiated by their daughter's ruined spirit, but the decision was all theirs. Some days, most days, it even confused them, leaving them feeling lost and unsure of where to go next. Other days, it made sense. "We needed this time apart to learn how to love each other better. For you and Hugo and for ourselves." The words floated out of Ron's mouth with ease, almost as if Hermione had sent them to him from her position at the bottom of the stairs.

"Does that make sense, Rosie?"

"No."

Hermione laughed, causing Ron to do the same. Rosie looked hurt, then she softened, joining in her parents antics.

"Don't be mad at your brother, alright? Being a family means making mistakes. Your dad and I included. And this separation was not your fault, okay? And it's not going to be forever, either. And hey, we have those trips to schools coming up, did you tell your dad how excited you are to see Hogwarts?" Hermione nudged her daughter, eliciting another smile from her dimpled cheeks.

Ron's eyes lit up. "Is that true, Ro? You want to see Hogwarts?"

She nodded, picking her head up. Her father's smile was enough to send her into a fit of laughter. He always looked like a child, just like her and Hugo, when he was like this.

"Of course, daddy. I want to see where you and mum went to school. I don't want to go to the other schools…"

"Well then, if you don't want to, you don't have to. But I did promise Hugo we'd go to see what he wanted to see. It's only fair…"

Rosie nodded. She hugged her father, then her mother. Ron picked up his daughter, flinging her small body over his shoulder. She squealed, and Hermione's heart beat quickened as she watched this rather dangerous display of affection. Her breathing was only calmed as they reached the kitchen where Rosie's feet were finally placed back on the floor.


	13. Chapter 13: The Adventure

A/N: Sorry this took me so long to post! Honestly, my interest in fanfiction dropped for a bit and it still hasn't completely been recovered. I was also on vacation for a week and a half and my house there doesn't have wifi so that only complicated things. I do not write for reviews, but I'd be lying (as would most fanfiction writers) if I said I didn't post based on how many I received. Still, thank you to those of you who do review, especially **HilaryWeasley**. It really means so much to me.

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><p>"Ronald, did you grab both knapsacks?"<p>

Ron nodded, carrying them both to the car. He popped open the trunk, dropping both bags inside.

"No!" Hermione protested, grabbing the metal of the trunk before he was able to do so. "They need those for the car ride…"

Ron furrowed a brow, questioning his wife's motives as she grabbed for the bags and slung both over her shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because they have activities for the children. You want to drive, then fine, but I'm not going to sit in the car for an hour while they lose their heads."

"Hermione?"

She looked up at her husband over the hood of the car.

"Relax, will you? We're going to Hogwarts. The same place we used to call home. We're going to have a family day. Let's enjoy it, okay? For the kids?"

Hermione flashed him a sly smile, as if to insinuate something she wasn't ready to say.

"Who says I'm not enjoying it?" She winked, opening her car door then sliding inside. The black leather invited her in, making her wonder how even with booster seats and past snacks littered on the floor, this car was still worth every pretty penny they spent on it. Ron insisted, for safety, that they buy a luxury SUV, one with acronyms and figures that meant nothing to her. It was pretty, and it was safe, but Hermione had never fancied cars the way Ron seemed to. It was only when they brought the vehicle home and shagged in the backseat that she truly began to love this car. It was the first time since they had been married that they had forgotten to use a contraceptive, charm or otherwise. Ron remembered smiling through his orgasm as Hermione told him not to worry, that she was ready for a child, but only if he agreed. He did. Still, they waited four arduous years before any talk of babies and possibilities came up again. Ron and Hermione had learned that some things were meant to be, like buying this car, and eventually having Rose and Hugo at the exact times they did. Other things were unclear, like their separation and the state of them now sitting in the moving car, driving out of the Burrow's driveway toward the highway that would bring them one step closer to Hogwarts.

"Hugo, please stop kicking your sister!" Hermione spoke in her most stern of tones. "You don't like when she kicks you, I imagine she feels the same way now that the tables are turned, don't you?"

Hugo stopped the erratic movement of his feet. He instead swung them, back and forth, back and forth, nudging the back of his mother's seat. Hermione smiled her way through it, only jerking forward when his kicking hit the softer part of her back cushion. Ron noticed, grabbing his wife's hand across the console. He kissed her knuckles then set their intertwined fingers down on the arm rest separating them.

"Mamaaaa...why are we going to Hogwarts?"

"Because." Rosie said quickly, up over the outer cover of her current book. She sat much lower than her brother due to his booster seat. Still, she felt much taller than him. It was a position Hermione had fond memories of. She lost it that complex many years ago, only when Ron, the same man she now sat next to, holding his enormous hands in her own, told her he loved her, did everything come crashing to the ground. There was no need to prove herself, only this feeling of utter relief as everything she was and wanted to be finally collided.

"Rosie wants to see the school and I think it'd be good for both of you. If you're not too tired, we may also head to Durmstrang's...your father's favorite school."

Ron shot Hermione the most immature of looks. Smiling it away, she watched as her husband looked over his shoulder toward his children, still managing to keep his eyes on the road.

"Your mother is joking. We want you to see where we went to school and then let you make your own decisions from there."

Ron switched lanes, using his directional just as Hermione had taught him. It bothered her that he passed his road test after one try while it took her three times, twice in the rain, before she was granted her license. He wasn't a bad driver, Hermione actually felt rather safe when Ron was driving. She knew the children felt the same way, usually falling asleep whenever their father chose to drive.

Next to flying a broom or playing chess, it was Hermione's favorite thing to watch Ron do. She'd never admit it, but she liked letting him drive, just as much as she enjoyed arguing with him about it. He was the better driver, simply put. She didn't mind handing over the keys, but she preferred when he would fight her for them, usually ending in both of them doubled over one another, Hermione holding the keys up in the air as she felt his erection press into her backside. Then, as if nothing happened, they'd call the children down to go before getting into the car and leaving. Having children changed nothing about their banter or their flirty fights; it only did its best to conceal what the children saw. As they neared the train station, Hermione's index finger was scraping up and down the length of her husband's inner thigh. It sent as much electricity through her as it did him. At one point he even looked over to her, smiling off the sensation creeping toward his groin.

They must have parked, because soon Ron was gone, taking Hugo out of the backseat. As Hermione realized what exactly had happened, she joined Ron on the other side of the car, grabbing Rosie's hand as well as the child's backpack. Rose protested, grabbing her rucksack from her mother. She flung the soft purple material over her shoulder as they all walked into the train station.

"Mummm…" Rose stopped, deciding she was going to pitch a fit directly in front of the main doors to King's Cross. Hermione looked down at the child, wondering how long this would take. She had learned better than to question her daughter's moods.

"It's not September 1st, how are we going to take the train in?"

Ron smiled at Hermione, the family quickly in motion once more. "We've made special arrangements, sweetie." She squeezed her daughter's hand, bringing them past Platform 1 and 2, closer to their destination. Finally, they were exactly where they needed to be, underneath the arch that separated Platform 9 and 10.

"Ready?" Hermione asked, looking down at Rosie. Her eyes were still wide, after watching her brother and father disappear through the brick wall. Rarely was Rose surprised or found to be in wonder of much in life. It scared her parents as they wondered what they did that made her want to grow up so quickly.

The child nodded, swallowing a big breath before running at the wall with her mother. Coming out on the other side, she felt butterflies in her stomach, wondering what it would feel like with a large cart full of books and maybe even an owl.

Ron and Hugo waited for Hermione and Rose on the other side of the wall. Hugo high-fived his sister. The siblings ran off toward the train, having the entire span of the platform to themselves. Hermione wrapped her arms around her husband's waist as the couple walked off toward the train's main doors. She remembered that first day back in September, the same day her and Ron met. Looking upon it now with eyes so amazed at how far they had come, Hermione almost forgot where she stood, following her children into the empty train, down a long corridor filled with endless choices of perfectly good seats. She was eleven then, just as Rose would seemingly be any day now. Hermione wondered if she'd find her husband on this same train.

"Hugo, please just pick a car, bud." Hugo listened, settling on the next car in. He smiled at his parents for their approval. Both he and Rose stole the seats nearest the window.

Ron and Hermione sat on the same bench as Hugo; Hermione nestled into her husband watching while the children made quick work of setting up a game of chess. They argued, briefly, if only to make up for the silence created by their parents. Neither Rose nor Hugo had seen either of their parents this quiet in quite some time. It was oddly comforting, in the way a pair of new trainers was.

About an hour into their travels, Rose looked over at her parents, watching as her other mumbled something into her father's neck.

"Why do people fight?" They were playing cards now. Hugo continued to deal the deck, the shiny cardstock much too large for his sloppy fingers.

Ron looked to Rose.

"What do you mean, Rosie?"

Instead of an explanation, she merely repeated what she had just asked.

"Why do people fight?"

Hermione smiled, sitting up straight. Her movement created a distance between her and her husband, something that chilled her body to a normal temperature.

"People? Or your father and I?" She folded her hands in her lap now, deciding how to confront this situation that had suddenly presented itself.

"Both. Everyone fights." She moved a few cards in front of her. Hugo did the same thing, his small tongue sticking out from behind his full lips. He was concentrating on the card game, not once letting his eyes leave the table in front of them. His ears, however, remained affixed on the conversation occurring elsewhere. He listened, wanting to finally understand what always went on between his sister and their parents.

"Rosie, do you remember when you were little?" Hermione laughed at the thought, thinking this was something she should still be able to refer to her child as. Little. She wanted to repeat the word and hold it forever. She also wanted it to be true. Hermione thought of herself at seven, and how mature she was even entering Hogwarts at eleven. Something happened between then, past what magic and schooling could ever teach her. She grew up and decided who she wanted to be. Then one day, she just was. Hermione breathed in sharply, wondering if this was what Rose was doing, if this was her time to figure everything out, or, as surmised, a fact that scared Hermione and Ron: if this was her time to just be.

Hermione breathed in fresh air, and with it, a bit of courage.

"Do you remember when you were little and I took your blanket to be washed? You were sleeping at the Burrow with gram and I just borrowed it because it was terribly filthy?"

Rosie nodded.

"And you cried for hours. I think that's why people fight. You're afraid of losing something so close to you. Something that means a lot, you see?"

"But I don't sleep with my blanket anymore…" Rose reasoned, causing Hugo to take notice.

"Oh, no, sweetheart, we're-" She was caught off by the sound of Ron interjecting into their conversation.

"Rosie, that's not what you're mother meant. Just because people fight doesn't mean that they're going to grow out of what they feel. It's...um, it's quite the opposite really. It's natural to yell and kick and scream at the world. It's natural to be unhappy. But it helps when there are people in life that fight with you, whether it be the world or fighting each other. Sometimes you feel so strongly about something or someone you get angry at the thought of losing them. That's what a fight is. It's like-"

"But if you love that person or that thing, don't you want to be nice to them?"

"A fight doesn't mean that you like them any less. It actually makes you love them even more."

"This makes no sense," Hugo interjected.

Hermione smiled into her husband's chest.

"No, I guess it's not, is it?"

"So all people who fight are in love?"

Ron shook his head toward the direction of the question. Rosie, with her frizzy hair and big blue eyes did nothing but stare back at him.

"Uhhh...not quite."

"Uncle Harry and Aunt Gin fight."

"Yeah, they do. Though not as much as your dad and I do, I guess it's always been like that."

"Does that mean they don't love each other as much?" Hugo asked, still moving cards around.

It was Hermione's turn to shake her head.

"No, your aunt and uncle love each other very much. But love's not a competition. Everyone loves everyone differently. I wish I could explain it to you both, but your father and I are very much in love. Just like Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny are in love. Love comes in all different forms. Sometimes that means smiling and sometimes it means arguing. Mostly it means doing whatever is going to make you a better person. Whatever is going to make you the best person you can be for whoever you're with."

"This isn't about blankets anymore, huh?" Hugo chimed. His card pile was much larger than Rose's now, causing Rose to scowl over at his brother, wondering why he often said such nonsensical things.

"Did you guys know that we've always been like this?"

"What? Boring?" Rose quipped. She smirked, causing her parents to laugh with her.

"Nooooo," Hermione teased. "Tense. We used to fight much more than we do now."

"Nasty rows, too," Ron added. "About spells and your Uncle Harry. Then, sometimes, on days like this one, we wouldn't fight. But we didn't enjoy those days any more than the other ones. It's always a special day with your mum."

Hermione kissed at Ron's cheek, continued to play with his fingers as they drooped over her shoulder. He was sweet when he wanted to be, she thought. Hell, he was sweet all the time. She was thankful for having such a loving, sweet, gentle husband.

"Mum, we're here!" Hugo looked out the window, his nose and hands pressed against the glass as he caught his first sight of Hogwarts. It was much like his parents always said; expansive and archaic looking. Even from the other side of the lake, he could tell it was a place he wouldn't mind calling home. At the age of five, Hugo saw everything as an adventure, something to be assessed and then tackled, quickly and all at once. He didn't remember ever thinking of Hogwarts, school, as something of the sort. Now, after seeing the building, he wondered what else his parents were hiding from him, and why him mum didn't want him to attend school here.

"How do we get inside, mum?"Hugo questioned. Both he and his sister had their rucksacks on their backs as they walked off the train toward the end of the platform. A carriage waited, pulled by creatures that only Ron and Hermione could see. The thought made them smile, then frown. It was a piece of truth they hoped they'd never have to confront, and something they wished their children would never become familiar with.

"What's pulling the carriage?" Rosie looked up at her parents with curious eyes.

Hugo elbowed his sister and ran ahead to climb in.

"Magic!"

"Hugo!" Rose followed him, both children in the carriage waiting for their parents to join them.

Ron helped Hermione up, wishing he was able to do this, to touch her as he did now, all of those years long ago. She was here now though, sitting next to him in a way he had always dreamed. He had gotten the girl, she was his. How, then, was he able to forget all of this and let her slip away that night back in January?

He shook his head, and with a laugh, he let the thought float away. The carriage began to move, and then they were at the gates of Hogwarts. Without hesitation, they opened, inviting the family inside. Hugo and Rose looked around with almond eyes full of wonder. They so desperately wanted to jump down and explore, something they were only allowed to do after the carriage stopped.

Soon, they were inside, Rose and Hugo running ahead to reenact a sword-fight they must have assumed would take place in a building such as this one. It reminded Hermione and Ron of the battles that were fought here, with much more than swords to guide each jab. They pictured it all, the walls ablaze, coming down upon families and children. Then they saw the aftermath, those (dare they call them) lovely weeks following the war where they both spent nights figuring their lives out in Ron's four poster bed. In all their time together, they never felt more uninterrupted. The world just let them be, and for the first time in years they just were, as couple and then something more beautiful than that. They promised themselves one night to never go back. Even now, slightly broken, trying their best to put each other back together as they fixed their mangled relationship, they knew that was a promise they had kept.

"Rosie! Hugo!" Ron was shouting, if only to get the attention of his children who were already running off down a corridor that was unfamiliar to them.

He remembered promising Hermione that he'd never yell at their children. She agreed, both parents doing rather well at keeping their word, if only with one another the same rang true.

"Slow down, both of you!" Hermione added.

They would parent these children together, not a promise, but a vow made when they first discussed having a family.

"It seems," Hermione said, whispering in Ron's ear. "They take after their father and enjoy running down these halls."

"I had girls to chase," Ron defended.

He stopped walking, pinning Hermione up against the wall they were walking alongside.

"Girls named Hermione Jean Granger." His lips were practically on hers now. His finger traced lazy lines on her cheek. She smiled into his touch, loving having him this close in this particular place.

"Oh yeah?", she teased. "What about now?"

"Hmm?"

But she was already gone, unable to hear her husband's bit of confusion as she ran off down the hallway after their children.

~!~

Hermione had never seen herself as particularly attractive. She felt plain on most days, and when she didn't, she was repulsed by her rather thin frame. Ron did his best to remind her of how beautiful she was, both inside and out, but there was only so much words could do. She needed to feel it, something she was finding harder to do lately, without the feel of Ron's hands scraping at her back, parting her thighs, and kissing her skin every night before bed.

She hated to admit it, or rather, she was embarrassed to validate it, but she did truly feel as beautiful as he thought she was when they made love. The intimacy was promising, but Hermione knew she could only give herself to someone who made her feel so completely perfect. It was the same feeling she got on that summer day at the Burrow, sixteen years earlier. She was eighteen then, naive and inexperienced. They fumbled and it was awkward, until it wasn't. It was the first day Hermione truly felt something other than ordinary. In her mind, she suddenly had character. She was in love. And with a boy that later convinced her she had had these things all along.

It was something she had a hard time dealing with. Love to her had always been this beautifully imperfect thing with Ron, but even for them that included smiles and rows that sent their heads spinning so fast only kisses could calm them down. Now, they were angry and bitter, and all the more perfect for that. The word scared Hermione. Her and Ron had never been perfect. It was a word left to people like her parents and his, maybe even Ginny and Harry. Still, they took pride in their more realistic title. It was them, just like the fights and the making up were characteristically them.

"Hermione, get on the broom!"

"Excuse me?" she emphasized all parts of the word to let Ron know she didn't appreciate his tone. She'd tell him, but her body language spoke volumes.

She was standing next to the broom, she just wasn't ready to mount it. Something about flying never came easy to her. She hated the wind in her hair only frizzing it into oblivion. The sound of snitches and owls moving in the air made her stomach uneasy as she thought that it was them that were meant to be above the ground, not her. Most importantly, the more she started to notice Ron (as Ron began to notice her), she felt incredibly unsexy atop a broom. It wasn't until one autumn afternoon when Ron slyly mentioned how hot Hermione riding a broom was that she began to regret never taking the sport seriously. Everyday her husband used flying at work and yet here she was, afraid to even straddle the broken-in piece of wood.

"I'm sorry; will you please get on the broom?" He smiled, beaming at his wife.

He stood next to her, holding the broom right below where she did. His hands brushed hers, but only gently. What he really wanted was to guide her hips up onto the floating wood before sitting behind her, grinding his erection into her backside as they flew off. It would never fly, not in the way he wanted. This was a fear of Hermione's; one she ignored instead of disagreeing with. It was there, but only if she acknowledged it and so she rarely discussed flying with her colleagues or children.

"Baby…" Ron began, but was quickly caught off by Hermione's elbow jabbing at his ribcage. "Bloody hell! What was that for?"

"You know I hate this damn thing, Ron! Please be patient. I was patient with you all those years back in school, now please have the same respect for me while I learn."

"Hermione, you have learned, love. You just don't trust yourself when your feet aren't on the ground. But," he spoke, his lips mere fractions away from her ear, breathing hot, heavy air on her earlobe, "I'm right here and I'm not going to let you fall, okay?"

Looking back over her shoulder, Hermione nodded. She swallowed deeply, feeling as the air, the same air he breathed with her, onto her, felt thick in the back of her throat. It went down like molasses, threatening to choke her as it bubbled back up. Her mouth tasted of nothing as she did her best to suppress the fear she felt in her fingertips and the rest of her limbs.

"Like this?"

Hermione's hands didn't move, but she leaned back into Ron to show him her hand placement. He licked his lips and nodded.

"Perfect. Now pick this leg up."

Ron poked the leg closest to the broom, feeling her bare skin in the shorts she wore. He hadn't felt her, even in such a chaste situation, in a week and a half. The incident, or lack thereof, at Grimmauld Place was now a distant memory.

Upstairs, at the near peak of Gryffindor Tower, Rosie and Hugo looked out the window down on their parents. They were mere specs of dust from way up here, but they were visible and pretty to look at, like snowflakes hitting the grass and melting on an early January day.

"Hugues, look!"

"Oh no…" Hugo mumbled. "Mum looks scared."

Rosie nodded, wondering what would happen next. It was like a book, one she couldn't quite get over. Her parents were soon becoming like characters in her favorite novels. They weren't real anymore, and the information she had learned about them, from them, was enough to deem them fictional. Just like the storybook characters, they gave and took pieces of her she didn't mind losing. She was growing up quickly, just as all Weasley girls were rumored to do. This was all a part of that, she told herself, gripping the stone underneath her tiny fingers as her and her brother peered out the now fogged up window.

"She's gonna do it, Hugues."

"No she's not!" A pause and then: "Bet on it?"

"I bet you a whole chocolate frog she'll do it!" Suddenly, "Look! Her leg!"

Down on the grass, Hermione's leg had lifted up over the broom. Ron stood with his feet planted firmly on the ground, holding the levitated broom down to earth. The strength in his forearms had Hermione licking away the stress created upon her lips. Ron kissed her cheek, watching as his wife smiled into it, suddenly feeling safe, if only for a moment.

"She's gonna fall. I bet YOU a whole chocolate frog she'll fall!"

"Hugo! That's our mum!"

"Well I don't want her to fall; I'm just saying she never flies! She hates it and dad loves it and we'll never get it." He paused, licking his chapped lips. If his mother was here right now, she'd perform a soothing charm while his father handed him his lip balm, swearing by the Muggle treatment.

Rose continued to stare out the window, watching as her mother swatted at her father's arm. Both parents were laughing, their heads tilted back and open to allow for all insecurities to float out as other thoughts cascaded in. "He's going to help her, Hugues. Watch."

"Will you shush and stop bossing me around? I'm watching, aren't I?"

Rose looked down to her brother, unsure of whether to be shocked by his words or to enjoy their breadth. He hadn't told her off, but instead he had stood up for himself, finally realizing how much he was like his mother in the way his words could sting and burn more than Rosie's Weasley flailing and kicking ever could.

"Right, sure, of course." She was mumbling, unsure of where to go next.

Looking up, she saw her father sit on the broom behind her mother. He was close, causing Rose to squirm. She'd never understand their affection. To her, boys were annoying and persistent in ways she couldn't stomach. A particular boy at school tempted her to use magic the other day, to cause him to drop his books and then trip over his own feet. It wasn't worth it though, especially the part where she'd be forced to explain to her parents where she learned those spells and how she had managed to steal her mother's work texts to memorize them.

"Oh no…" Hugo pressed his small palm to his forehead. "You're going to win this bet."

Rosie shook her head, and then turned the motion into a nod. Not only was their mother on the broom but their father was sitting carefully behind her, both parents perched on the wood that only barely held them off the ground. They hovered, like the couple that they were, the tips of their feet brushing at the grass below as Ron whispered something into his wife's ear. Hermione smiled, then nodded while Rose and Hugo looked on.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice just as unsure as she felt. The last time they went flying it had ended them in the Burrow's orchard, Ron stuck in a tree not as a result of their bad flying but due to the charms Hermione had cast upon him after he sent them flying much higher than originally planned. For Ron, it was meaningless fun, something he'd always enjoy. Hermione was never able to fully get there, especially after that incident. Flying made her revert back to the little girl she would always know, with her frizzy hair and large teeth. She was that same girl now, her body practically enveloped by Ron. She felt unsexy and unwilling, and definitely unbeautiful. Sitting on a broom on a late spring afternoon was not the way she wanted to spend her day.

They began moving, and the hovering turned into something bigger; they were flying. Ron kept a tight grip around Hermione's waist, causing Hugo to share a look with his older sister. The two children smiled, then retreated back out the window, watching as their parents zipped around the Quidditch pitch, then back toward the open field where they first started this whole thing.

"Ronald, please slow down!"

"'Mione…"

"Ron, I'm serious."

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded. "Of course I trust you, darling, it's just...I hate-"

They flew terribly close to the ground then picked up speed which allowed them to fly up once more.

"I hate flying!"

Not once did Hermione's hands leave the grip that her husband had around her nervous midsection. Through the cotton of her cardigan he could feel her stomach doing somersaults, bouncing here and there in a similar pattern to their flight.

"'Mione, please, if you'd just breathe we'd be fine. See? Have we even come close to crashing yet? No. And it's because your husband is big and strong and can, at the very least, handle his wife on a broom."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Ron shouted, rather indignantly.

Hermione scooted forward, removing herself from Ron's grasp. He was hesitant at first, then he let her, doing his best to concentrate on the path he intended and not the way Hermione's bum moved along the wood. Then, she did something daring. Without thinking, for her mind would never allow such a thing, she lifted one leg over the side of the broom and let it dangle with her other. Ron just watched. Her body was so beautiful and limber and perfect.

"What are you-?" She cut him off, a simple finger to the lips was enough to silence him completely. He nodded, as if understanding. Then, she scooted back, her hip nearly brushed into Ron's groin. She felt it, but only barely. His eyes did their best to focus, but to no avail. Ron's mind was elsewhere, hidden away beneath the trees they currently flew over.

Hermione kissed Ron, chastely at first, before drawing his bottom lip into her mouth and biting down, hard. He sighed, quickly becoming turned on. She then released his mouth and kissed at his neck. The children upstairs were already down the hall, following Professor McGonagall in and out of dormitories and classrooms. Thankfully for that, as Hermione's hand was now placed haphazardly on her husband's erection.

They were snogging on a broom, Ron thought. His mind was incapable of conjuring up any other thoughts than that as Hermione began to stroke her husband through the corduroy trousers he wore.

"'Mione," he whispered, licking his lips before dropping his head back to revel in the feeling of her lips on his freckled neck.

"Shit."

He was mumbling now, realizing what he had done. He had taken his mind off of flying and was now completely and utterly concentrated on his wife and her ministrations. He felt it, the way the broom was no longer a part of him, but instead its own separate entity. He felt the way they slowed down, then sputtered to a stop, throwing both he and Hermione off the broom and onto the cold grass below. Only then did they both realize that it had begun to rain and that the grass and the surrounding area was not only cold, but damp as well.

Ron looked over, watching as the world around him slowed down. He was lying on the grass on his back, watching as water droplets flew at his tired body. Hermione watched it too, then she looked over, cracking a smile before her mouth grew even wider, letting out little spurts of laughter. She sat up, still laughing, before collapsing onto Ron's chest. Now he was laughing too, loving the feel of the rain and his wife nestled deeply into him.

"I don't know why I always let you convince me that flying is a good idea."

"Flying is the best idea. You're alright, yeah?"

"I'm perfect." She wanted to say more, to tell him how that was the most fun she had had in quite some time. Still, she fell short, her laughter keeping her mouth busy as Ron laid a few lazy kisses into the top of her head. Rubbing at his side, playing with the inseam of his t-shirt she realized that among fun and carelessness, Ron had always looked at her in a way she had only seem him do one other time. She thought of that night back at the Burrow, their bodies colliding as they hit the hard ground, landing footsteps away from one another. She didn't let it get to her the way it was getting to her now. He wanted her, for the mere fact that she was willing to do something that meant so much to him. In that moment, and this moment too, Hermione had the propensity to feel beautiful. She felt wanted, something she hadn't let herself feel in months. She was that girl, scared and insecure, but she was also the wife and mother Ron loved. They weren't making love, and their snogging had ended minutes ago, but she still felt worth it. The rain only validated all of this as it continued to fall, covering and cleaning them up, completely.


	14. Chapter 14: Heartbeats

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to post! I'm currently getting ready to go back to school and I was on the Cape for the past few weeks (mostly without internet). Thank you to those of you who have asked me to post (Hilary and Jess!) and have stuck with this story from the beginning. Posting this has definitely been an experience so thank you for the kind words.**

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><p>The house was quiet when they got home. It was well after midnight, and Hugo was asleep in his father's arms where he had been since the train first departed from Hogwarts. Rose, instead, was full of energy, bouncing up the stairs, step by step. Hermione muttered a simple "lumos", illuminating their pathway as she held Rosie's hand and ascended the stairs with her husband and son following closely behind.<p>

"Rosie, please be careful, okay honey? Your brother is sleeping." Ron spoke, knowing it would be his voice to calm their daughter down while Hermione's voice would only send the child into hysterics. That was the beauty of parenting, something that often took Hermione time to cope with. It was two years ago, almost exactly to the day that Hugo was born, that Hermione understood what it was like to have a child that gravitated toward you and therefore away from your spouse. She felt for Ron, and feared Hugo's aversion to quidditch and reading were sending his father into a panic. Meanwhile, Ron worried the same thing, knowing that the way Rose squirmed at the sight of dresses and loved Chudley Cannons games worried Hermione. It was all the same though, as long as the love was there. At the top of the stairs, they both knew it was. Even Rosie felt it as Ron smacked her bum lightly, sending the child laughing off into her room to change before bed.

Ron and Hermione brought a sleeping Hugo into his room. Hermione ignored the light switch and instead brightened up the room with magic. Her smile helped, as Ron carefully put their son on his bed, only after removing his coat and his shoes. "Thank god he's a heavy sleeper like his dad, yeah?", Ron quipped before Hermione even had the chance to.

Hermione only laughed, nudging her husband's shoulder to send him to the side. "His father is a just fine sleeper, now please don't wake him, you know he's going to be so cranky."

Hugo was on the bed still, now dressed in his favorite blue pajamas. "Tuck him in and give him a kiss, will you?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" This wasn't fighting, or even bantering. This was Ron and Hermione at their best; parenting. Ron obliged, kissing his son all over his face. He then pulled up the covers so that the seam rested right underneath Hugo's chin. Ron kissed his forehead, pushing back his ginger hair to reveal his speckled porcelain skin. Three kisses (or was it more?) lay there even as the hair fell back down and the light was out, leaving the room in complete darkness.

Outside, Ron pulled Hermione into him. They kissed, much like they did on the broom earlier that day. "Mmm." Hermione moaned, forgetting they were standing in the middle of the hallway right outside the bathroom where their daughter was currently brushing her teeth.

"EW!" Rosie moaned, leaving the bathroom with her hairbrush in hand. "Why do you two always do that? I'm right here, you know!" Her hands were on her hips, looking up at them. She was so perfectly both her mother and father that it made Ron and Hermione laugh. Rose had her mother's tenacity and her father's know-it-all temper. Her hair was her fathers, but her stance was all Hermione. She didn't know it yet, and maybe she never would, but she made them proud in the way she was never anything but the seven year old she was born to be.

"C'mon, munchkin!" Rose was in Ron's arms now, laying sideways so that her father could smatter her face with kisses. Laughter filled the hallway and then filtered into the child's room. Inside, Hermione turned on the lamp on Rose's bedside table, filling the corner of the room with light. Rosie and Ron were in a tickle fight on the bed, with Ron doing all the tickling while Rose kicked upward to fight the air. No doubt, Ron would win, but only after Rose found a way to push her father away from her stomach as he tried to blow raspberries on her tummy.

"Mummy, can we read a book?"

"Sure love, what book?"

"And please don't say Hogwarts: A History…", Ron mumbled into Hermione's shoulder, practically biting at her skin through the jumper she wore. Hermione laughed, loving the vibration of Ron's voice running through her.

"Something short. I'm sleepy."

"What about...this?", Hermione grabbed a book from her daughter's bookshelf, knowing it to be a favorite of everyone in the room. Rosie only nodded, getting under the covers as she listened to her mother read the story to both her and her father.

"Mum-", Rosie interrupted.

"Yes, love?"

"Can daddy stay tonight? Can he stay forever?"

Ron looked over his shoulder at his wife. She cleared her throat, pressing a firm palm into her clavicle. "Rosie, that's up to your mom, but we'll see in the morning, okay?" The child, their child, nodded, knowing what the answer would be. Just as her parents often shared words without speaking, the same words were often heard by their children. It wasn't a secret what Hermione wanted to say. She continued to read.

Rosie nodded off in perfect timing for the ending of the story. The binding of the book was old, but it still held all of the pages in perfect order. "The golden statue remained on the stump forever more, and witches and wizards were never be hunted in the kingdom again."

"C'mon," Ron whispered. He turned the lamp off then slowly exited the room, leaving a sleeping Rosie behind. In the hall, he wanted to snog Hermione again, to feel his wife as she should be, ready and waiting with her body pressed perfectly into his own. Instead, he waited, dragging them into their room where his shirt, then hers were quickly pulled up over extended arms reaching for the skylight.

They tumbled back, knees bending to accommodate for the bed that was soon under them. Ron smiled, kissing down the apex of Hermione's chest, lapping at the skin near her belly button. Hermione was smiling too, but growing impatient by the moment. She didn't want foreplay, or the possibility of anything but lovemaking. Simply put, if such a thing ever was simple, she needed the feel of her husband inside of her, driving into her deep, but slowly, as she called out his name. Hermione imagined Ron wanted all of the same things and was just wasting time ravishing her because that is what she usually enjoyed. He mustn't have heard it; the clock she felt beating around them. It was like they had no time, even though if Hermione was to think rationally for a moment, they had all the time in the world. She didn't feel that way though, and that is what mattered. She needed Ron more than she ever had before and she needed him to need her in the very same way.

"Hermione, love, what's wrong?"

"I just want you inside of me…" She shyly muttered into Ron's shoulder.

"I'm right here, love."

"I know you are, I can...I know, okay? It's just last time we did this here, like this, I told you to leave. It's just…" She thought for a moment. She was holding his face in her hands, two tender limbs of fingertips brushing his stubbled cheeks as she spoke. "Never again, okay? We have to be better than that. The kids deserve that. I need you here with me everyday. I need us to talk and work things out but mostly I need you to love me like you did before. I want to be a family again. And right now I need you to make love to me because I love you, Ronald Weasley. I love the person you were when we were eleven and I love the man you are now. You're the best husband and father in the world and I'm the luckiest woman, okay?"

Ron looked down, watching as Hermione's chest rose and fell. She noticed, only causing her to swat at his shoulder. He smiled, nibbling at his wife's neck. "I'm sorry, you just look so...so beautiful and perfect right now. I'm lucky, you're not. You got exactly-" A kiss to the neck, then several more. "What you deserved."

Hermione rubbed at the back of Ron's neck. Deliberately, she let her ministrations relax him before he was soon scraping at her lips with his own. Then, she was devouring him, tasting every inch his mouth had to offer. "Make love to me, darling."

He did, but only after the foreplay and the snogging, and the love-bites all up and down Hermione's legs. A similar mark was left on Ron's own hipbone before Hermione took all of her husband into her loving mouth. Ron dropped his head back, much in the same way Hermione did after Ron's fingers jerked into her body, slowly, then with force, as his mouth latched onto the nub hidden behind her perfect brown curls.

When they were done, they both laid spent, tangled up in the sheets. Hermione rested her head on Ron's chest, missing the rain pouring down on them. Ron replaced the wetness with his thumb rubbing at Hermione's shoulder while his lips occasionally kissed the crown of her head. They spoke, only when necessary, of plans for the next day, then of plans for every day after that. They promised each other things, both with words and without. They were happy, blissful, and forever grateful for everything they had just endured. It was a rough six months, but as Ron began to doze off, he was thankful for how strong it made them. It brought them here, on this bed, their bed, just as they seemed to always have been. Maybe they were always here, or this was where they had left versions of themselves. This was the better version of themselves, the versions they vowed to be for their children and for each other. Closing their eyes, they sealed those promises, settling on simpler tasks like sleeping and dreaming.


	15. Chapter 15: Back to the Start

**A/N: There's really no excuse for this being so late; it has been written since I posted the first chapter. Anyway, it is kind of fitting that it's so late. You'll see why after you read. That being said, it might be helpful to go back to the last chapter and see where we left off. And of course, thank you to everyone that has followed this story from the beginning. This is the final chapter of this story but I might be posting another story I've been working on very shortly.**

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><p>Opening his eyes, Ron groaned, knowing that the bed next to him was nothing more than an empty space marked by wrinkled sheets. She was gone, probably downstairs making breakfast. Today was a new day, although last night was fascinating too. Everyday they were together would always be special for Ron.<p>

He grabbed for his robe, and then settled instead on his pajamas haphazardly thrown around the room. It made him just as uncomfortable the older Rosie and Hugo got, to see them look at both him and their mother knowing what occurred long after they fell asleep last night, and almost every night Ron was home and not on a mission.

Downstairs, he heard bacon crackling in a pan, being flipped by magic while Hermione put fresh banana pancakes onto a plate. She saw him, a smile etching itself across her face. "Hi babe," she spoke, leaning in to accept the kiss she knew was only waiting on his lips. His morning breath was something she had come to love. She loved that her husband smelled and tasted like a man even in the morning and right before bed at night. He was perfectly, and imperfectly hers. As he pulled away, grabbing for a fresh piece of bacon from the stove, Hermione smiled, knowing it would always be this way, even after twenty one years of marriage.

In a huff, Rosie entered the room, throwing her black leather rucksack on the kitchen table. She walked to the pantry, leaving empty-handed after deciding her stomach couldn't handle food right now. Not in this mood, not any time soon. The combat boots that she wore fit perfectly over a pair of black tights. A black tank top dress that Ron swore could have been a shirt fit her loosely, and her favorite army green jacket pulled everything together.

"Rosie, please go change."

"Ew, why are you home?"

"Ro, please don't give me attitude. I want to see my children off to school, is that okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." Her voice wreaked of teenager. She was indifferent and sassy. She wanted freedom and yet the thought of taking exams this year to be placed in a career she wasn't sure she was ready for, mortified her.

"Rosie, please grab an apple or something for the train ride, will you?" The voice was her mother's. Hugo had entered the kitchen too. Immediately, he helped Hermione bring their breakfast to the table so that both he and his father could eat. He was taller now, though not as tall as Ron. He was lanky, just as lanky as his father used to be when he was his age. His ginger hair was shaggy, matching the old tattered trainers he wore but contrasting the plainness of his green flannel.

"I'm not going mom, I told you!" Rosie was at the table now. Hugo and Ron sat across from her, almost filling the table. Hermione stood behind the island in the kitchen, pouring both her and her husband a cup of tea.

"Yes you are. Please don't argue with your mother, Rosie." Ron had gotten better over the years at disciplining their children. It didn't come easy, but Rose's prepubescent years had challenged him enough to make it possible. As he watched her grow, he knew that Rose would only become more and more fiery. She was like a spitball, full of pent up energy, just waiting to be shot through the end of a straw.

"Stop calling me that! And stop staring, Hugo! Bloody hell, you're so irritating!"

"ROSIE! Language," Hermione reminded her daughter, causing Rose to look down at her plate in shame and push her bacon back and forth from one side of the plate to the other.

"Yeah whatever." Everyone at the table knew she was sorry. Rose wasn't like her mother with her perfect words, and she wasn't over apologetic like Ron either. She was much harder to crack, and much more resilient to change. Rose was growing up in a time much different than her parents. She wasn't worried about fighting for her life or getting her best friend to fall in love with her before the war was over. Rose was only worried about her grades, the latest book she was reading, and the boy she loved, whether he loved her back or not.

"What are those boots?" Ron asked, popping a piece of bacon in his mouth. It was the last one on his plate. Without thinking, he went to reach for another, but was soon stopped by Hermione's intense glaring. He stopped himself, settling on clearing his plate of the pancakes that were left before sipping on the remainder of his tea. Hermione's cooking had improved greatly, and for reasons unknown to everyone. Ron didn't question it. It wasn't a cookbook or a family recipe that would change her. Like their more private arguments, Hermione told herself it was something she had to improve on, and so she did. It was as simple as that.

"I've been wearing these for a while, okay? Dear god you're just like Scor, so nosey!" Ron's eyes widened at hearing his daughter say her boyfriend's name. It wasn't that he was avoiding their relationship, but more than he didn't like to admit that it existed, especially in their home, especially after what had just happened over the holiday break.

Noticing, Hermione reached her hand across from the table, to grab ahold of her husband's hand. "Listen, can you two please not fight?"

"It's true! He can get over this unwarranted hatred of my boyfriend. He's being ridiculous. And at Christmas dinner. Oh my god I was mortified."

"What happened at Christmas dinner?" Hermione's arms were crossed over her chest as she sat back. There was disappointment creeping up her neck in a flush. The button up shirt she wore along with the tight pencil skirt caused Ron to take notice as she flexed her arms, using them as a stilt to hold her tired head up. She didn't know where this was going but she didn't like it.

"Rosie, shush please." If it was anyone else he would have kicked her underneath the table but this was his daughter and this is how far their relationship had progressed in the past ten years. He loved both of his children equally, and he didn't play favorites, but just as Hugo and Hermione had a certain chemistry so did he and Rose. Some things never change.

Hermione shot daggers at Ron, causing him too to sit back in his seat, much in the way he would have as a teenage boy. His arms dangled at the side of his chair while his stomach restrained against the tight light blue cotton shirt he wore. "No, Rosie tell me what happened." She was indignant now, her voice louder than it seemed to be before.

"Dad talked to Scorpius and asked him if he knew the contraception charms!" The words flew out of Rose's mouth like a snitch, flying out of a freshly unlocked quidditch chest.

"Ronald!" Hermione's voice was impeccably loud now. She also had placed a tired hand to her forehead where she now let it rest for both support and shadow. Hermione needed something to hide behind. Even after 31 years of knowing him, Hermione still found some of Ron's most immature behavior to be the funniest. As they grew up, began dating, and eventually got married, this meant that she was turned on by the mere thought of him being himself in such a way.

"Well I know what we were doing at that age!", Ron defended.

Now it was Hermione's turn to be terrified at her husband's words. Had he really just said that in front of their children? The look on Rose's face, coupled with the choking sound eliciting itself from Hugo's mouth was enough of a confirmation. "She's seventeen! We didn't even date until we were eighteen!"

"Oh so I'm a year off. Like you didn't want to shag me then! I know what I wanted to-"

"OH MY GOD! I hate this family!" Rose was standing now. For emphasis, she threw her linen napkin down onto the chair she had just evacuated. "None of my friends families are this open. You two are freaks!" Ron and Hermione shared a glance that soon turned into a sly smile from the both of them. Even Hermione seemed to be content with the situation before her, all fears aside.

"No, your father is a freak. I am perfectly normal. Well, as normal as you can be in this house." She spoke up so that a mobile Rose could hear her from her place now running up the stairs toward her room.

"What's her problem?" Hugo spoke up, biting at his last bit of toast. He stood up to join Hermione near the kitchen island where she vigorously washed the dishes with hands.

"Your sister is having relationship problems, honey." Hermione kissed the top of Hugo's head, causing the teenage boy to squirm under her touch. It reminded her of Ron, but for different reasons.

"MUM!", Rose yelled down over the bannister.

Hermione walked around the island and out of the kitchen to look up at where Rose was standing. Both women had their hands on their hips as if it was protocol for this type of thing. "Well aren't you? I assume that's why you don't want to go back. You're either embarrassed or he's mad at you for telling your father something you clearly never told your father..."

Hugo walked by casually. Not even looking at either girl, he spoke, "Mum: 1, Rose...not even making it on the scoreboard."

"It's not a fight! We're just not...we're not speaking." Rose softened, staring down at the carpet below. She wanted to cry, or to scream, but neither came. Her mother was exactly right, just as she always seemed to be. With her father now staring up at her as well, she resigned to walking back to her bedroom to continue packing for the rest of the semester. At her departure, Hermione just sighed, leaning into the kiss that Ron placed on her cheek before continuing to tidy the kitchen.

"Why don't you just do the spell?" The voice was Ron's; Hermione didn't need to look up to confirm anything when it was just her and her husband. There was a certain bit of confidence and security in them as a couple. They had fought wars, both at home and far away. They were better versions of themselves, just as they had promised, and when they weren't, one was always there to pick the other up from the floor.

"Because this calms me down. Why are you asking me questions you know the answer to?"

"Because normally answering questions calms you down too." He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm trying here, okay?" Now he was behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her taut midsection so that she could grind her backside into his front. He groaned, biting at her ear while she continued to wash the dishes. "This is all so new. I knew she'd get a boyfriend but I didn't know it would be a Malfoy. And what about Hugo? Maybe he has a girlfriend…"

"Nah, he'd tell me. He's not like her, you know. He never has an issue being one of us freaks," She said with a laugh. Ron joined in in the laughter, both parents sighing at the word choice of their rather bright daughter. "She didn't tell us she hated us."

"What?" Ron asked, looking at his wife in both shock and concern.

"I guess last week Albus told Ginny and Harry that he hated them for prying into his love life." Hermione paused. "She didn't tell us she hated us, just that we were freaks…" Her voice trailed off, promising so much more than she expected Ron to give her. The dishes done, he picked her up, gently resting his palms on the underside of her bum as he hoisted her up onto the slightly wet counter. He expected her to complain, but she didn't.

With his lips mere inches away from hers, he spoke, making it so that they scratched at her skin with every passing syllable. Then, they were on her skin, tasting at her while his hand fisted in her hair. They both breathed in, creating an intense circle of air radiating around them. They both pulled away at exactly the same moment, making all other thoughts disappear.

"I should go talk to Rosie."

"We should-" Ron was going to say something slightly different but after hearing Hermione's offer he changed his mind. "Yeah, right...yeah."

She hopped down off the counter and began to walk away. She stopped herself though, running back to Ron to grab his cheeks and kiss his lips once more. "I love you."

He didn't respond for he didn't have time. Hermione was already halfway up the stairs, just imaging what things her husband would say to make her smile.

At the top of the stairs, she walked toward Rose's door. She leant into the wood, knocking on it lightly, hoping her small motion would be enough to play over her daughter's loud music. "Rose-" She was cut off, the door opening. Next, the music was lowered, and Rose's laptop was shut. "Honey, you okay?"

"Yes, mum." Rose spoke, her answer curt. Hermione had learned by now not to let her words, or lackthereof, sting her heart the way they used to. She remembered being this age once. Specifically, she remembered loving a boy and how much that hurt, so much so that sometimes there was no other answer but to shut out the world.

"I'm not here to bother you, okay? You just seemed upset by what I said and I wanted you to know that wasn't my intention. You deserve to be happy, honey." Hermione sat on her daughter's bed, pulling a crying Rose closer into her. The sting of her heart had been taken from anger to bitter sadness. Hermione couldn't think of anything worse than seeing those you love ache. It only made a similar swell in her own stomach.

"We're not fighting, mum. I swear. A fight...is what you and Dad used to do."

"Used to? I think you forget that you're away at school for nine months out of the year"

"Ugh! This family is infuriating!" Ron entered, shutting the door behind him so that Hugo, who was brushing his teeth in the adjacent room, could not hear all the tension through the sometimes paper-thin walls.

Ron spoke up, his hands buried deep into his back pockets. "Yeah well this family's the only thing you've got, darling. That is, until your grimy boyfriend starts paying attention to you again."

"Dad!"

"I'm sorry."

"Ron, you know that's not fair. My parents weren't exactly okay with me dating a wizard and you know how that made you feel."

Ron outstretched his hand, using his palm to point to Rose, who was no longer crying, but instead standing with her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "I'm a wizard. And a pureblood at that. I want my daughter to date a wizard. What I don't want is for her to date someone like...him," He settled on the word after finding nothing else appropriate. Believe it or not, Ron was trying. He was trying in the way that father's watching their daughter's fall in love try. He knew all too well that losing her was the next step. Once upon a time, Mr. Granger had told him that very thing. Still, Ron didn't have it in him to put himself into Scorpius' shoes. He had been there before, but he swore that his 'there' was much different, far better, than where Scorpius stood.

After running a frustrated hand through his hair, Ron began to pace. Hermione knew what came next. Like clockwork, as if Ron was confirming what Hermione knew to be true, he left, slamming the door to Rose's room like the child that sat inside, huddled on the corner of her bed.

"Mum, how do I deal with this?"

"The fight?" Rose rolled her eyes, then nodded. "You talk through it. You tell him the truth and if you love this boy the way I think you do...I mean the way that could only scare your father you fight back. You fight for whatever it is that you've worked this hard to get."

"Mum?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Is that what saved you and dad? Back when Hugo and I were little?"

"Yeah I guess so, baby."

"You guess?"

"Listen, honey everyone is different. Your father and I are different just like you and Scorpius are different. We worked it out, and you will too." She let go of the grip she had on her daughter's shoulders. "And honey, please get ready. We're going to be late. Oh and your Head Girl robe is downstairs, all pressed and ready. Please don't dirty it, alright?"

Rose said nothing. She wanted to nod or utter something about how she was thankful to have such an understanding mum. Instead, she picked at fibers coming out of the quilt of her bedspread. Hermione remembered that feeling well and with it, she remembered all of the times in her life she had felt it. The last time was nearly ten years ago, while Ron talked to her at Grimmauld Place about the state of their relationship. Then, the things that followed were magical and perfect. "It'll work itself out, Rose. If you believe in you and Scor' then it'll be even better than you first imagined."

~!~

The platform was noisy. Ron and Hermione took comfort in watching both of their children go through the wall on their own. This left Ron and Hermione to go through together, holding hands, only to pop out on the other side to stares and comments they'd never be prepared for.

Already, Hugo had found the Potter's. He and Lily had grown exceptionally close over the years, something Rose often teased them for. Even though they were cousins, they were also best friend. Both teens believed it was more than possible to be best friends with someone of the opposite sex. Harry and Hermione did their best to confirm this, something that made itself evident as Hermione walked toward Ginny and her best friend, stepping into both of them to give them hugs.

On days like this, more than others, they felt how strongly they were watched. The only one who didn't feel it was Rose, already halfway down the platform still wearing her combat boots as she snogged Scorpius. She was also the only Weasley that didn't mind the stares, although the ones she received were for different reasons. Everyone at Hogwart's seemed to know about her relationship with Scorpius, and while at first it was annoying, it soon became something she enjoyed more often than not. Girls wanted Scorpius almost as much as she did. But he was hers, and as they whispered "I'm sorry" and reattached at the lips, it was something Rose forgot. She even forgot that Scorpius' parents were a mere foot away talking to other Slytherin parents. By standards, she wasn't on the right side of the platform, but still, she didn't mind. She was where she needed to be and her mum was right.

"How's Albus?" Ron asked, whispering to Harry.

Harry's eyes grew wide, then did their best to find Hermione who was talking to Ginny and Lily closer to the train. "Hermione! You promised!"

"Promised what?" She turned, staring at a distraught Harry and a Ron who looked embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. "Oh Ron!" Her eyes caught on Harry. "I'm sorry, he's my husband! I can't keep my mouth shut."

"That's not the only thing she can't keep shut…" Harry muttered, knowing that it had to have been something sexual that provoked Hermione to be so open. He was right, but he'd never know that. Now it was Hermione who wanted to feel ashamed and embarrassed. Not only was Harry commenting on her inability to keep a secret, but also on her closeness with Ron. What she didn't know was whether it was his accuracy or his attention to detail that set her off. She walked over to Ron and they began to row. Hands flew into the air as they whispered things only they could understand. Every so often their wedding rings would catch the light to blind a few curious onlookers. They weren't swayed, instead focusing on how they would get over this when they got home, and only when they get home.

On the other side of the platform, down near the back of the train, Scorpius and Rose were engaged in a similar situation. Hugo noticed first, then the rest of the family. They were so loud that even Hermione and Ron took notice. Scorpius offered to grab Rose's bags, only to receive a blow to the chest as Rose picked them up herself and began to walk. Scorpius mouthed a simple "Ow!" as he followed her, quickly trying to grab at her hand and remedy the situation. It was hopeless though. Rose had already entered the train to begin taking attendance.

"Look familiar?" Ron only smiled, unsure of how else to react. It was familiar in the sense that it was everything they used to be. They weren't children anymore, and with the loss of that youth they lost innocence but never time. They were adults now, they owned a home, and they raised two bright, independent individuals and they were better because of it. Everyday they fell in more love and everyday they challenged each other. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't particularly difficult either. They had had their years like Rose and Scorpius, those years of bickering and arguing over things you couldn't possibly remember the next day. Years ago, ten to be exact, they had moved past all of that. Maybe they'd always be those teenagers, figuring themselves and each other out or maybe they'd always acknowledge those two but live on differently, because they deserved to and always would.

* * *

><p><em>Fin!<em>


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